Preferring the Blonde
by idbeinthefollies
Summary: When Ivy finds out about Tom and Julia's new Marilyn musical she will do just about anything to get what she wants. Told from Ivy's perspective, this is the story of a journey through the making of a broadway musical. Eventual Ivy/Derek.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ivy Lynn is tired of being in the chorus. When she finds out about Tom and Julia's new Marilyn musical she will do just about anything to get what she wants. Told from Ivy's perspective, this is the story of a journey through the making of a broadway musical.**

**So this is my very first fanfic. I hope you like it and I would really appreciate if you would review it. It will be eventual Ivy/Derek so if you are wildly opposed to that, it is probably not the story for you. This will probably end up being extremely long (I wrote 6 chapters just based around the pilot) so bear with me and try not to get bored out of your brain. It follows the show pretty closely thus far but it might go a little AU later on.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash.**

**Chapter 1**

"Ivy Lynn?"

Ivy stood up and gathered her things, stomach churning. She'd thought that auditioning would get easier somewhere along the way but it hadn't. Every time she set foot in an audition room her legs turned to jelly and she was met with the sudden urge to puke. Not that she would ever let the panel know that. She took a deep breath before walking through the open door.

"Hey guys," she called as she set down her bags.

"So do you want the ballad or the uptempo first?" she smiled with a well-honed air of easy confidence as she quickly stripped off her jacket. Underneath she was wearing a flimsy black tank top she hoped was reminiscent of 1920's Chicago. They were looking for a replacement Roxie to be in the ridiculously long-running revival and Ivy knew she could play the part to a tee. She'd spent hours over the past week poring over bootlegs and sheet music making sure she did everything perfectly, even squeezing in a few Fosse dance classes because god knew Heaven on Earth wasn't exactly subtle in all it's duck driven glory. Not that she wasn't grateful to have a steady job, but she thought she might go mad if she spent another year parading around in feathers and sparkles.

"Uptempo, please" came the answer from behind the casting table. She knew the entire artistic team, of course. After all she'd been in the show ten years ago. In the ensemble. Although they didn't seem to remember her, giving her that squinty face that meant "I know you, but I don't know where I know you from." She hated that. It was one of the worst parts of the business. You got into performing because you loved to be loved and then you spent most of your career being a nameless, faceless. Her life was like the fucking Chorus Line.

Ivy shook her head slightly and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. 16 bars to convince them she could play Roxie Hart. She'd chosen "Cabaret" as her audition song. Same composer with the potential to be a great acting song when placed in her capable hands. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she **was** Sally Bowles. She had just aborted her baby and now she was breaking down while frantically trying to make it appear like she was alright. Connectable material for Ivy, at least to a certain degree. She didn't need even to force the tears forming in her eyes as she belted out the last notes.

And then she was back on earth. She was Ivy Lynn being escorted out of the room following a quick "Thanks. We've seen enough." On the way out she heard whispers from behind the table.

"Fantastic voice, but she doesn't have the body for the part."

Yep, this was the life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Turn, turn, hat off and sashay off. _

By now it was like running on autopilot. Ivy didn't even have to think about where her feet went. And a good thing too because she was not feeling up to this tonight. As Ivy exited stage left she mentally went through her chores for that evening. She had to pick up something to eat on the way home because she'd eaten all her comfort food after a particularly bad audition last week where the casting director had literally ordered pizza during her scene. She had to call her mother and pray that the conversation wouldn't follow its normal pattern and end up being a huge fight about her career or lack thereof. And the comment from the audition today was still running through her head. _Doesn't have the body for the part. _Ivy had always known she was curvy but it still stung that she couldn't play Roxie purely because of her figure. Maybe she'd skip out on dinner after all…

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost didn't realize someone calling her name as she scurried offstage.

"Ivy! Hi!" came the ever chipper voice of Tom Levitt.

Her spirits instantly lifted. Tom was back!

"Tom! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed happily, kissing her friend on the cheek.

"Just got back from London. Opening the west end production."

"They as good as us?" she joked.

"Of course not," he replied. She giggled before running to touch up her makeup before she had to be onstage again. Well, at least there was a high point to this day. Tom and her had been friends for eons. They'd met when he came to her university showcase looking for talented kids to fill out the ensemble of The Door On The Right. And he plucked her out of one chorus line, ironically to join yet another. Technically, he'd "discovered" her and damn well if he ever let her forget it! Ivy frantically applied a coat of lipstick and rushed over to stage right to get ready for the big finale number and curtain call.

Ivy loved curtain call. No matter how small her part may be, she still felt special knowing that she had contributed and that, in some form, those people were clapping for her. But at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder, how would it feel to get a star turn and have the audience whoop and cheer her name? The cast took their final bow and the curtain came down. Ivy walked swiftly to the dressing room. She couldn't wait to get out of this costume. Honestly the itching and the… suddenly she was distracted by the sound of her phone buzzing. There was the number of the casting director she'd seen today flashing on her caller display. For a moment, her heart leaped. Maybe they had reconsidered. She answered it hopefully.

"Hello?"

"Hello. This is Kate Clinton. I'm calling in regards to your audition today."

"Yes?"

"Well, we don't feel like your right for the role of Roxie, but we were wondering if you might like to be in the ensemble."

And Ivy hung up, anger and sadness mixing, tears threatening to overflow. She knew that that was not the correct way to end a business call but she could always fain a bad connection in a pinch.

"Did you get it?" Jessica, a close friend and fellow ensemble member, asked.

In response, Ivy, frustration evident on her face, grabbed her wig and pulled at the seams.

"Ivy, stop. They fine you for that!"

She threw the wig down. God knew she couldn't afford any losses with what she made here. She buried her face in her hands, closing her eyes. Weren't actors supposed to build a thick skin to rejection? Yet she always felt this sense of horrible vulnerability whenever these phone calls came.

"Hey. Hi. You got by me so fast downstairs. I didn't get to…" Tom trailed off as he saw Ivy quickly wiping tears out from under her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she lied, knowing full well he wouldn't believe her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I just had an audition this morning. I didn't get it," she mumbled awkwardly.

"Ivy, you wanna leave us?" he said, crouching down beside her chair. She looked over at him.

"Tom. You know I love the show. I love you…" she said trying to articulate what she was feeling without seeming like an entitled whiner. But Tom understood exactly where she was coming from, as always.

"The ensemble, not so much?" She looked him in the eye.

"I just want a part. I trained. I'm a trained.." It was true, she could do everything. She wasn't being immodest, just honest. It had come with years of dedication and painstakingly hard work but she knew she was good. She knew she could handle a leading role. Ivy knew she was lucky to be in a broadway ensemble, it was just, well, couldn't a girl dream?

"I'm not complaining," she continued.

"Just dreaming." said Tom, finishing her sentence once again.

"Like everybody."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

By the time Ivy left the theatre that night, she had calmed down considerably. It helped that the kids at the stage door had been especially sweet that night. They'd even asked for her autograph. Granted, it was only to fulfill their goal of getting the entire cast, but it made her feel special nonetheless. She hailed a cab and directed it toward her home. It was expensive but she hadn't had anyone to go home with and with the amount of makeup she had on, she looked like a hooker. Besides, it was a long walk and Ivy was exhausted. She just wanted to go home and go to sleep. When she finally reached her apartment, she jostled the key into the faulty lock and hurried inside. She grabbed a pair of sweats and a tank top and headed to the bathroom to begin her evening routines. She jumped in the shower and 10 minutes later her hair was clean and her face washed. As she wrapped the towel around her body, she analyzed herself in the mirror. She was pretty enough but not a true beauty, she decided. Her facial attractiveness was sexy but not graceful. Just another bombshell blonde. And her body left something to be desired, at least from an entertainer standpoint. She was not overweight by any stretch of the imagination but she certainly felt it when surrounded by her stick thin, string bean dancer friends. She quickly turned away from the offending object and had just settled into her PJ's when the phone rang. Absentmindedly, she picked it up.

"Hey girl!"

Ivy brightened. It was her oldest friend, Jenny. They'd grown up together, roaming the streets of New York City, taking dancing classes together and talking on the phone till the wee hours of the morning. It was cliche but Jenny was her childhood BFF and she loved getting the occasional phone call, updating her on the goings on of her friend's life. Jenny had moved to Boston almost 10 years ago when she got a job working for a PR company. She'd gotten married and had two little children, ages 3 and 5.

"Jenny!"

"Hey superstar. How's the show?" Jenny always joked about how she'd turned into a housewife while Ivy lead the glamourous life.

"Alright, I guess." Ivy said, diverting the conversation.

"How are you?"

"Fine. William and I just got the kids down."

"Aww… How are the little munchkins?" Ivy loved Jenny's kids. They'd only met a couple of times but she could safely say that they were just about the cutest things she'd ever seen.

"Not so little anymore. Kyle's almost six now."

"Wow. I guess they do grow up fast." she lamented, wondering how it was possible that Jenny had a six year old. When had they stopped being the six year olds themselves?

"But I won't have to worry about a lack of children in the house anytime soon."

"Oh my god, Jenny. You're not?"

"Yeah. I'm pregnant!" Ivy squealed in spite of herself.

"Congrats!"

"Thanks. Hey, listen, Ivy, I gotta go. Lindsay just woke up and she's being really fussy."

"Yeah. No worries. I'll talk to you later." But Jenny had already hung up. Ivy listened to the sound of the dial tone and she was filled with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. She looked around her tiny, empty apartment and wondered.

Who really was the lucky one here?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A week later Ivy received a surprising phone call from Julia Houston, Tom's writing partner and lyricist.

"Ivy?" Julia asked into the phone, unsure about the number. She and Ivy were friends but had somehow never gotten particularly close. They liked each other well enough but most of their associations happened through their mutual closeness with Tom.

"Julia? What's up?" Ivy said, slightly worried. Why was Julia calling her? Was something happening with Heaven On Earth? She really couldn't afford to lose her job.

"Well, Tom and I are thinking about writing a new musical. We have this song and…"

"You want me to sing it." finished Ivy. She sighed. She was used to getting these requests. Doing little favours was one way to accumulate contacts in this business and she was well known for having a wide vocal range, making her perfectly suited to cut demos.

"Could you? It's going to be about Marilyn Monroe's life and we thought you'd be an ideal candidate."

An ideal candidate. As in she had an actual shot at the part? As in she might get to play Marilyn Monroe? A smile slowly crept across her face.

"Definitely Julia. I'll definitely do it."

The next thing she knew she was in a room with Tom, working out the preliminaries for their new song "Never Give All The Heart." She'd spent the last few days reading up on Marilyn and she thought the song was brilliant. And it coincidentally sat right in the sweet spot of her voice.

"So how much Marilyn do you want?" she asked Tom. After watching a few movies and listening to a thousand interview clips, she thought she had the voice down.

"Not much for now. Let's just get the key and the phrasing worked out first and we can add in the character stuff later." Ivy scrunched up her nose. She really hated when she didn't have a character to work with. It left her with too much time to think about her actual singing. But she didn't say anything, instead she leaned against the piano and began to sing, Tom softly vocalizing beneath her.

"_As the wise man once wrote, _

_Never give all the heart,_

_Well, it's easy to see, _

_He was writing for me, _

_I just wish I could play that part."_

She was just getting into it when she heard the door slam and a flustered looking Julia walked in.

"Ugh, sorry I'm late." Julia rushed in, apologizing as she pulled off her brown coat, revealing one of her crazy scarves.

"We had to have our birth certificates notarized for this adoption and I couldn't tell them to hurry it up because I didn't want to get into another fight with my husband about Marilyn the Musical since I'm not supposed to be doing Marilyn the Musical. Go on, it sounds amazing." Ivy almost laughed at the red-heads frantic speech pattern. Sometimes Julia was just a little ball of energy. She'd be great with a baby. Ivy thought of Jenny, soon to be mother of three. It seemed like everyone was going all happy family on her.

"Well Ivy is a blending genius." Tom said, turning to look at her. She shrugged, flattered.

"Well, it's easy to make you guys sound good." It was true, Houston and Levitt were a dynamo team when it came to songwriting. Second only to Stephen Sondheim, in her opinion, when it came to living composers.

"Yeah, it's easy to make us sound bad too." Julia replied. Everyone cracked a little smile, remembering some of the horrifying auditions they'd heard when they were looking for leads for Heaven on Earth. But before anyone could reenact yet another telling of the ever famous goose woman audition, they were interrupted by the sound of an unfamiliar voice laughing from the corner. A good looking young man sat across from her decked out in full black attire, making him appear almost ominous.

"Ellis! Could you get me some tea?" Julia barked at him. It seemed Ivy wasn't the only one who took a natural disliking to Ellis.

"Sure." the boy got up and left quickly. Ivy was glad. He kind of gave her the creeps. She turned back to the piano and smiled, shrugging her shoulders when Tom gave her a look that said "What's Julia's problem?" From the way he had looked at the kid, she couldn't help but think that maybe Tom had a little crush. He turned back to Julia, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, you're happy."

"I'm glad we're doing this. I really am." he said, reaching up and kissing Julia's hand before shuffling his sheet music around and going back to business.

"I've got her in B flat. I wanted to keep it in a Marilyn key."

"We weren't sure how much belt you wanted." she added. Marilyn didn't really have a powerhouse voice and Ivy wanted to emulate that without taking anything away from the song itself.

"Well, there needs to be some size at _From the start_ but it doesn't have to be a full belt, it could be a mix." Ivy nodded, taking the note.

The three continued to work through the song. It was several hours later when they finally decided to record. They'd done three takes of Ivy singing, mostly in her natural voice. Tom and Julia seemed fine with the way the demo was turning out but Ivy knew that it could be better. She could be better.

"Can we do it one more time?" she asked. She wanted to try something. Tom and Julia directed Ellis, who had ben invited back in once it was clear that Tom had no idea how to work the new sound system, to set up the computer once again for a final take. Ivy closed her eyes and thought of Marilyn. Her voice, her sex appeal, her desperation. And out of her mouth flowed a dead on imitation of Marilyn Monroe. She started soft then managed to power through the higher sections while still retaining that breathy sound. It was perfect and by the time Ivy was done she knew that this would be the take they used. She smiled as she finished the last note. Tom and Julia grinned back. A little flutter of happiness warmed its way through Ivy. Maybe this was her chance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

A week or two after she had cut the original demo, Ivy Lynn found herself in a giant rehearsal hall being directed by the one and only Derek Wills.

If Derek's reputation could be trusted he was a major jackass. But he was the best jackass in the business and she, ensemble member extraordinaire, was performing for him. Although, he did seem rude, she couldn't deny he was incredibly good at his job. And it certainly didn't hurt that he was a major fox with a sexy british accent.

"No, no. You have to make the transition crisp. You're waiting too long to catch her and its causing a delay. Here, let me do it." he said, stating his directions in a very blunt manner before pushing a pale dancer out of the way and taking his place. He gestured for the dancer to start the music from where they'd left off. A man picked her up from the beneath the thighs as she straddled the air, and then, with the help of yet another dancer, hoisted her up onto the director's shoulders. She was all too aware that her legs were wrapped around his head. He spun around before, rather gracefully, positioning her to fall back perfectly.

"See? That's how you do it. Now back to the top." It was going smoothly up until the sequence where she had to slide down a bench into someone's arms. The person in question did not make it there in time, forcing Ivy to stick her legs out to avoid landing directly on her ass. Derek stopped the music once again.

"Mark! You need to cheat the turn to get there faster. Got it?" Mark nodded but apparently hadn't understood because he made the same mistake again seconds later. Extremely frustrated, Derek stepped in once again, completing the turn and catching Ivy as she sailed down the bench. He looked her straight in the eyes as he turned around with her in his arms and Ivy could feel her breath quickening slightly. He put her down and she felt awkwardly alone, unhappy over the loss of human contact. She shrugged it off and got ready to start yet again.

A couple of hours later she had completed the number and it had been fantastic. Derek Wills really was a genius. Ivy looked around for Derek, wanting to thank him. When she caught sight of the director she walked over.

"It was amazing getting a chance to work with you." she breathed, flirting slightly, still high off her performance buzz.

"Yeah. Thanks." he replied distractedly, patting her on the arm before turning to Julia.

She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. But then Tom swept in, telling her how wonderful she was and she all but forgot about Derek.

It had been almost a month since she had first heard of Marilyn the Musical and now, here she was, auditioning for it. It seemed to be on the fast-track. Julia claimed it was because Riedel, the theatre critic, had given it an amazing review but Tom had later revealed it was because the producer, Eileen Rand, was on the warpath, trying to convince everyone that she wasn't out of the game after her recent divorce.

Ivy's hands were shaking. There was so much riding on this audition going well. She knew she had Tom on her side but Derek was going to be a different story. He'd already made it perfectly clear he didn't like her. She walked through the hallway door only to be assaulted with a barrage of blondes decked out in Marilyn outfits. She herself had chosen to merely suggest Marilyn with her outfit of a white stripy dress that accentuated her ample cleavage but it seemed as though everyone else had decided to go full out. One girl, Ivy thought her name was Lisa, had come in a complete Gentlemen Prefer Blondes costume. She spun around and there was yet another, girl, this time in a Seven Year Itch dress. It was horrifying. Everywhere she looked she saw younger, prettier, skinnier versions of herself. Everyone was her and she was everyone. Ivy felt a distinct urge to hurl. She quickly excused herself to the washroom. Leaning over the toilet, she could feel bile accumulating in her throat. She had skipped breakfast this morning so there wasn't much coming up besides pure acid that stung her throat and caused her to retch and cough. Ivy felt a sense of shame overwhelm her. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do this anymore.

"Ivy. You in there?" came the voice of her longtime friend, Jacob Devite. He'd stage managed Ready Money and was helping run the auditions.

"Just a minute." she called, wiping her mouth and standing up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yep. Perfectly fine." she shouted.

"Ivy." he said. He knew she was lying.

"No. Seriously Jake. Just send the next person in. I'll be out in three minutes." she told him, this time with more conviction. He'd evidently decided to drop it because she heard no more from him. Ivy unlocked the bathroom stall. She stood in front of the mirror and glanced at herself. She ran her fingers through her her curled blonde locks and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Swallowing hard, she walked out into the hall bumping into a brunette girl wearing a striped t-shirt and jeans. Must have gotten lost, Ivy thought, but she was happy to see someone who didn't remind her so much of herself. She smiled at Jacob as he escorted her into the room, looking worried.

"Hey guys. Sorry about the holdup." she apologized, eyes searching for Tom who gave her a reassuring nod before saying

"That's perfectly fine. What do you have for us today Ivy?" She'd taken great time and effort choosing the perfect song. She didn't want to sing an actual Marilyn song, it was too predictable and they would all be sick of anything sung by the infamous blonde at this point in the audition process. Instead, she'd picked a standard called "Guess I'll Hang My Tears Out To Dry". It was originally a Frank Sinatra song but it had been transposed for a woman as well. It was written by Jule Styne, who wrote one of Marilyn's most famous tunes "Diamonds Are A Girls Best Friend," so it sounded like something Marilyn could have sung. Once she'd cemented her song she had practiced until her throat hurt making sure her vocal inflections had a Marilyn feel but didn't mimic because they would probably be tired of that too. As soon as she opened her mouth, she knew she was nailing it. When she finished Eileen was on the verge of tears, Tom was acting like a proud papa bear and Julia looked impressed . Even Derek Wills was sending her a glance that seemed to say "I acknowledge your talent."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

That afternoon Ivy received the awaited for phone call. When the caller display on her phone revealed that it was the studio calling, Ivy nearly jumped for joy. She all but dove for her phone, hitting the answer button with new fervour.

"Hello."

"Hi Ivy." Surprisingly it was Derek speaking. She'd expected Tom or Julia.

"Oh, hello Mr. Wills."

"Derek please."

"Derek." she repeated robotically.

"Yes, well, I'm calling to tell you, you're being asked to come for callback. The information will be passed on to you by email as well as the sheet music for the song we want you to sing. Is that alright?." Her heart skipped with joy.

"More than alright Derek. Thanks so much."

"Yes, yes. Bye." he said, quickly hanging up the phone. But Ivy didn't even care. She had a callback. Who cared if Derek Wills was essentially ignoring her. SHE HAD A CALLBACK. Ivy immediately made a mad dash to her laptop and hooked it up to her crappy Wal-Mart printer. Minutes later she was sitting in front of her keyboard playing the opening chords, Tom's demo guiding her in the background. The song was called Let Me Be Your Star and it was gorgeous. It glided over her vocal chords with ease, as if it was written for her. And knowing Tom, it probably was. It was undeniably great to have a friend on the inside. By seven thirty that evening she had the entire song memorized , along with both the higher and lower endings. Although, she knew she would sing the crazily high one. She was going to be an unapologetic show off for this one. Feeling well practiced, Ivy grabbed the phone and a bottle of wine. In celebration of her small victory, she was going to call her mother. Ivy's mother was the former broadway star Leigh Conroy. Leigh had been a sensation when she was young and the world had expected big things from her. She'd been Tony nominated for Sunday In The Park With George when she was just 25 years old! Almost 5 younger than Ivy's current 29 and she would never let Ivy forget it. But somewhere along the lines Leigh had gotten pregnant with Ivy and her brother Jimmy and all but disappeared. Ivy knew her mother resented her slightly and growing up with your mother undermining all your performance endeavours was painful to say the least. She'd had to beg her mother and work to finance her vocal classes and dance lessons when she was young. Besides, there was always that name to live up to. Why do you think she went by Ivy Lynn? Even now Leigh constantly ragged on her daughter, always asking her why she was still in the chorus. Ivy's mom had been opposed to her child getting involved in the broadway biz at all and used Ivy's lack of success against her. But tonight Ivy would get the best of her mother. Tonight she had something to brag about.

Ivy picked up a glass as she dialed her mom's phone number.

"Hey mom! Well I just wanted to call and say guess what, I got a callback for Marilyn." she giggled.

"Marilyn who?" came the always lovely voice of Leigh Conroy.

"Marilyn Monroe." she clarified.

"Did you say something about that?" her mother asked, distractedly.

"Yes mom. I told you about this. They're making a musical about her and they want me to play Marilyn." she said, exaggerating slightly as she poured her wine. Of course Leigh called her bluff immediately.

"Well, I mean, no, but it's kind of exciting, so I'm just kind of excited." Ivy brought the glass up to her mouth and sipped. If this conversation was going to continue this way, she was going to need as much alcohol as she could get.

"Ivy, honey, did you know Jimmy is going to night school?" Leigh changed the subject, referring to Ivy's twin brother. Ivy's face fell.

"No, I didn't hear Jimmy was doing that. I mean, I knew things weren't going so well at the dealership but wow, night school. That's great!" Ivy replied, summoning up as much enthusiasm as she could. She was happy for her brother of course. But couldn't Leigh let her have her moment? Leigh proceeded to dominate the rest of the conversation talking about Jimmy and his wife, Elizabeth, and their newborn baby.

"Oh Ivy, little Rebecca is just adorable. She's got the cutest little ringlets. When are you going to settle down and give me a few more grandkids?" Ivy hated herself for even thinking that calling her mother could bring about any good. Leigh was pulling the why don't you have a husband routine AGAIN.

" I'm trying to focus on my career right now and..."

"Oh for goodness sakes Ivy. Do you even have a boyfriend?" Leigh interrupted loudly.

"Well, no. Not really."

"Ivy darling, you're 29. You're not getting any younger. Are there at least some potential candidates?" Ivy hated it when her mother talked about her love life like a game show.

"There is this one guy. He's the director for Marilyn. He's pretty good looking and I think he's interested." she said, lying through her teeth. Derek hated her and she knew it. Leigh seemed disappointed she couldn't continue on her rant and the conversation ended soon after. Ivy put down the phone, her spirits significantly heavier than they had been before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Ivy was sitting outside the studio once again. She'd thought that she had been amazing at her audition but here she was, still competing with Ms. Corn Queen Iowa for Marilyn. According to Dennis, the girl she was up against was a complete newbie. _Really Ivy_ she chided herself, can't even beat Karen Cartwright. Sighing, she cracked open yet another Marilyn book. She had a tally on her phone and so far she was at about 10. Between watching movies and video clips, Ivy spent every waking moment making sure she knew Marilyn inside-out. She could recite all of Marilyn's lovers in backwards chronological order if she was asked to. _Joe DiMaggio, Arthur Miller... _The sound of the door opening forced Ivy out of her Marilyn haze and she found herself looking at the exasperated face of Derek Wills.

"Hey. Sorry we've been running a little bit late." Ivy got up making sure her face was sunny and bright. She would make this man like her if it was the last thing she did. She pushed her chest out ever so slightly and grinned up at him.

"That's all right." To be honest, it was a little irritating but if it meant Karen something was having more trouble, Ivy was more than all right with the little delay.

"Oh, how is that?" Derek asked, referring the giant book.

"Oh, this one's actually really good about the Arthur Miller, Elia Kazan stuff. Not so good on the movies but there's so much of that in some of the other ones I don't really miss it." she replied, taking advantage of the chance to show off for the director. Derek looked duly impressed. Maybe he was warming up to her?

"How many have you read?" he asked, actually breaking a smile.

"A lot." was her only answer.

"And the movies?" She laughed almost embarrassed to share with him the extent of her obsession.

"All of them." He furrowed his brow at her and smirked.

"Come on, even Clash By Night?" He was referencing one of Marilyn's least popular films.

"Even Monkey Business." she replied. He laughed.

"Listen, umm." he said, suddenly getting serious.

"I really appreciate you're doing this. I understand it's a lot to ask. You know after the demo and the dance sequence. Not to mention the two auditions." She was taken aback by someone, especially Derek, showing her this much gratitude.

"It's Marilyn," she said, as if it explained everything and in a way, it did.

"I didn't expect it to be simple." She felt Derek look her up and down and he turned his back, opening the door and holding it for her.

"Come on in." She smiled at him as she walked through it into the studio. The assistant choreographer was running a sequence with a couple of dancers. The one in the middle, looking vaguely confused must be Karen. Derek interrupted.

"Come on everyone. We're done. Let's call it a day." Derek walked farther into the room allowing Ivy a second to confer silently with Dennis, who had been spying for her all week. He gave a subtle shake of his head and her smile grew. It looked like Karen might not be a threat to her after all. When Derek came back, he was leading the befuddled brunette over to her. As the girl came closer, she realized that it was the girl she had bumped into the day of her first audition. Odd how that worked out. She'd never have had her pegged as a Marilyn. Derek formally introduced the two.

"Ivy Lynn, this is Karen Cartwright." Ivy studied the taller girl as they shook hands. She was very pretty. Wavy shoulder length hair, high cheekbones and enviably long legs.

"Hi." she said, turning on the charm.

"It's so nice to meet you. I love your scarf." she exclaimed, complimenting the first thing her eyes landed on.

"Aw, thanks." Karen replied, genuinely not seeing through Ivy's pleasant facade.

"My mom gave it to me for my birthday." This girl was green with a capital G. Ivy couldn't remembered ever being like that. So willing to see the good in the world, exuding an air of _natural_ confidence.

"Oh, that's so cute." she remarked, attempting to keep the condescending tone out of her voice. Derek was looking back and forth between the two woman, amused and obviously enjoying this little scene he'd set up. Karen turned to him and said something about seeing him Wednesday before rushing out of the studio, probably desperate to get away from the apparent awkwardness of coming face to face with the "enemy." He walked Karen to the door, which bothered Ivy for reason's unexplained.

"Umm.." Karen turned around, trying to get in one last question but Derek slammed the door in her face. Ivy had to fight to keep her smile from expanding. The two were left alone in the room. Ivy decided to break the slightly awkward silence.

"She seems pleasant. It was nice of you to introduce us." she said, trying to appear as happy as possible.

"Cut the crap Ivy. You know I just pulled a jackass move, making you girls talk to each other. Karen is sweet and naive but I know you aren't. So please, let's be honest with each other." Ivy was surprised but not unhappy with his little speech. She immediately dropped the act.

"Alright. That was a ridiculous ploy to try to intimidate both of us. Is that why you made me come here? To meet sweet little Karen Iowa?"

"See there's the Ivy I know."

"You've met me three times Derek."

"Let's just say I know your type." This silenced Ivy for a moment. Her type? What was she, a car? Irrational anger started to build up in her stomach.

"And what type is that?" she said, taking a step closer to him. But he ignored her and went to start the music.

"Derek, I'm waiting for an..." He raised his hand up to quiet her and grabbed her around the waist guiding her through the steps. She could feel his breath on her ear. Suddenly, he spun her around and pulled her closer to him so that their faces were inches apart, his hand resting lower on her back then it should have been. She could feel her pulse quickening. He didn't speak, just continued showing her the steps, which she completed perfectly on the first try. He seemed impressed that she had managed to pick them up that fast but she was a chorus girl with a spectacular memory **and** a friend who knew all the choreography.

"Did you know that it's been two days now and Ms. Cartwright has yet to learn those steps?" he said, breathing hard, arms still around her. She smiled.

"Don't play games with me Derek." It was her turn to call his bluff now. Derek thought he was a master manipulator but Ivy knew directors far to well to fall for his charade. Derek looked at her with slightly more respect. He was testing her, seeing whether he could work with her and she had passed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The next day she was back in the studio. This time they were doing a scene where Marilyn lamented her role as a sex object. Ivy was having a hard time getting it. Derek was staring back at her, mentally urging her to figure it out. They had been there for an hour going over all the sides she would have to do at the next callback. The first scene was between Marilyn and Joe DiMaggio. The man who was supposed to read with her hadn't shown up, apparently there was a murder on the subway, and Derek had been forced to play Joe. To be perfectly honest, this hadn't bothered her in the least. She had excelled at that scene. Playing sex had never been hard for her, her body did half the work for her. But this little monologue was giving her pause. Ivy hated when she had to bear her insecurities to the world. And Derek being there wasn't helping. It was one thing to play vulnerable in front of a faceless audience but in front of the Machiavellian director? That was quite a different story.

"Do it again." He wasn't even giving her direction. Just calmly telling her to repeat and repeat. She knew he probably had a good reason, it was Derek Wills after all, but it was annoying nonetheless.

"I'm not crazy. People wanna think that. They say I'm crazy..." but Ivy knew she was still doing it wrong. Sighing, she looked at her feet. What was she missing?

"I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's difficult."

"The DiMaggio scene is less internal." she said, reverting back to her TISCH drama vocabulary, talking more to herself than to Derek.

"Quite a bit." he said noncommittally. It bothered her intensely that he seemed so unconcerned, nice even. She wasn't used to this type of behavior from directors. Did he just not see the point in giving her notes? Was she not even worth that? Increasingly frustrated, she got up and began to pace.

"It's just that word crazy. It just feels so volatile." It made her want to play it big. Make it important.

"She was so afraid her whole life that she'd end up being crazy like her mother."

"Yeah, that's definitely in there." Derek agreed. Ivy grew silent for a moment, crossing her arms and uncrossing them, her feet still moving. Ivy thought about her own mother. Imagined being a big star and talking about Leigh, about her fears of becoming just a flash in the pan, about being just another nameless, faceless. And then it hit her. She would never be broad with something like that going through her mind. She closed her eyes and sat back down releasing all the air in her lungs and then refilling them before she spoke.

"I'm not crazy. People wanna think that. They say I'm crazy because I want things." Derek leaned forward but Ivy barely registered this fact.

"But the things I want. I want love. I don't want... Well, a sex object is a thing. Who would want to be a thing?"

"Kay, hang on." Her train of thought was unceremoniously cut off by Derek who had gotten up off the table he'd been occupying. He was now walking towards her, his eyes intense and locked with hers. What was he going to do? She'd thought she was had finally figured it out in the last run-through. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, watching him as he walked around her, never taking his eyes off her. He raised his hand and pointed at her hair clip.

"May I?" She realized what was happening now and she made the conscious decision to let it. She nodded and smiled. He shuffled back around and kneeled down in front of her, pulling her hair forward so it framed her face. Gently he stroked her cheek. Once, twice. Her mouth twitched. Apparently he took that as a sign of acceptance and consent because the next thing she knew, his lips were covering hers. He got on his feet up forcing her to stand up and she looped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth and pulled him closer. She wasn't sure exactly how much she wanted this to happen but if it helped her get Marilyn then so be it. Besides, as slimy as he could be, he was extremely attractive and his reputation as a womanizer pretty much guaranteed he would be good in bed. Worse things could happen. And it was just sex. Before she could give it any further thought, he whirled her around so that her back was on the table that he'd been sitting on. He reached for the straps of her dress. She broke the kiss.

"Uh-uh. Not here." she whispered, out of breath. She already felt guilty for being about to do the director, she didn't need to make it happen on the actual casting couch. He murmured acceptance and when he didn't offer his place, she offered hers. The cab ride home was relatively short and they spent most of it making out in the back seat, the driver rolling his eyes. He quickly threw a twenty on the seat as she grabbed him and pulled him up the stairs. She fumbled with the keys before finally prying the door open. She guided him to her bedroom as he started planting light kisses up and down her neck, his eyes clouded with pure lust.

_Oh god Ivy _she thought as she unbuttoned his shirt _what have you gotten yourself into._

About an hour later she was lying on top of him, still unclothed.

"So I guess this means I get the part." she joked, kissing him in between words. He snickered quietly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It seemed she was here all the time now. Waiting anxiously outside to be taken to audition yet again. At least she didn't have to dance. Karen sat across from her, the two sitting in an uncomfortable silence, neither really willing to strike up a conversation. She was extremely thankful when Dennis appeared.

"Hey Dennis!" called Karen waving. He whispered a short hello to the brunette before greeting Ivy and rushing over to hug her.

"You look fantastic." he said, knowing how nervous she got for these things.

"I'm fine, all good." she told him. In all honesty, she was panicking on the inside, even knowing that she was the stronger choice.

"You're going to be great."

"IVY!" Tom scooped Ivy up into a giant hug.

"Hi, hi, hi." she was so glad that she at least had friends here to make her feel a bit better. She actually felt kind of bad for poor little Iowa. She glanced over Tom's shoulder and sure enough, Julia had taken pity on the newbie.

"You look stunning, doesn't she?" Tom told her. Dennis nodded in agreement.

"Look at that top. Perfect choice. It brings out your eyes." he continued. What would she do without these guys? She was already feeling better. Could she bring them to all her auditions? Tom leaned in, whispering.

"I think you have it. Even Derek was saying how well you did on your scene work."

"Yeah" agreed Dennis.

"He was telling us yesterday how fast you picked up on the steps to 20th Century Fox Mambo."

She faked a laugh, silently wondering if this change of opinion was based solely on the fact that she was sleeping with him.

"Well Dennis, having you basically teach me the whole dance probably did give me a slight advantage." she joked, hoping it sounded natural. She did not need Tom finding out she was screwing the man he had affectionately nicknamed "The Horrible Human Being." And then her friends were whisked away as the rest of the production team began filing in, including Derek who gave her a sideways glance as he pushed the door open for Julia and Eileen.

It was just Karen and her in the hall now. They returned to their quiet, each a bundle of nerves. She once again felt some sympathy for the tall Iowan. At least she had some experience coping with the all en composing fear of failure at the final callback. She shrugged at the girl and then fell back to her own thoughts.

Soon enough Karen's name was called and they brought her in for the dance call. She heard the music start playing through the thin walls and then Karen started singing. And all Ivy could think was _fuck._ Well, there was the reason they kept calling her back. Who knew the naive newbie had such a voice? Ivy stomach rumbled uncomfortably and she prayed she wouldn't throw up again. About 15 minutes later, Karen came out of the room to find Ivy nearly pulling her hair out with anxiety. The blonde looked up to see her lanky competition standing in front of her, directing her to go in. She stood up and entered the room in a haze.

"Ivy, you'll be reading with Dennis." she was eternally grateful that her friend had volunteered to be a reader. She looked the audition table and saw a group of smiling faces. She began to relax, feeling her heart return to normal speed. The reassuring faces of her close friends gave her some kind of confidence and she delivered all the sides perfectly. Now all she could do was wait.

They were certainly taking their own sweet time deciding. Ivy thought she would kill herself if she had to live like this any longer. The not knowing was torture. She'd messed up the choreography for the first time in two and a half years tonight. She looked up when she heard the sound of footsteps and Dennis and Jessica's voices.

"Nothing yet?"

"Not a word."

"This is awful."

"I know." They were talking about her, of course. Anyone with eyes could see she was on edge.

"Night guys!" she called out, her eyes never leaving her phone, imploring it to ring. Dennis sighed and shuffled over.

"You okay?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"I can't believe it's going on like this." Jessica added.

"I don't wanna talk about it." she repeated.

"Ivy." She instantly straightened, recognizing the voice of Tom. He sounded apprehensive.

"Hi. I wanted to come and tell you in person." His expression was not encouraging. Ivy felt tears swimming in her eyes, she pushed past Dennis, Jessica and Tom,

"I didn't get it. I didn't get." she repeated it like some sick mantra.

"It's okay Tom, I just have to get out of here." She wasn't going to let him see her break down.

"IVY STOP." Tom held up his hands.

"You got it."

"I got it?" she said in disbelief.

"You're Marilyn." Ivy's heart burst with a joy that she didn't think she'd ever be able to feel. Tears were pouring out of her eyes. Happy tears.

"Oh my god, I got it." It hit her like a ton of bricks. She had a leading role in a workshop. That was the first step to having a leading role on broadway. She threw her arms around Tom, smiling so hard it hurt.

"I got Marilyn!" Dennis and Jessica clapped happily. She was crying really hard now.

"Are you alright?" Tom asked. But she wasn't alright. She was absolutely fucking fantastic.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do." Her emotions were all mixing into this crazy euphoria. She grabbed all her friends and pulled them into a bear hug. Suddenly, she felt another pair of arms around her. She turned around to see Julia. And behind Julia was the biggest surprise of all.

"Derek?" She might've expected Julia to come because of Tom, but Derek?

"Congratulations Marilyn."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

After she had calmed down a little, Jessica, Dennis and Tom took her out for some celebratory drinks. They walked out to a little bar a few blocks from the theatre. Well, her friends walked, Ivy floated. All those years in the ensemble were finally paying off. She had a part; she was Marilyn Monroe. Ivy felt as though she were dreaming, everything was passing in a haze. Tom brought her a drink, champagne, and proposed a toast.

"To Ms. Ivy Lynn, our new star, by unanimous decision, I might add." She perked up. Everyone had voted for her? Even Eileen?

"I don't know what you did Ivy, but even Derek was raving about your performance and he was really pulling for Karen initially. Whatever your doing, keep it up." Ivy frowned. She'd slept with Derek to "secure" the role but she hoped that that wasn't the only reason he'd cast her. She brushed the thought off. He didn't seem the type and anyway who really cared how she had gotten it? The point was, she was going to be the lead in a broadway musical. Nothing could bring her down tonight. She sipped her champagne with a goofy smile on her face, her friends beaming back at her. Tom turned to Jessica and Dennis.

"Hey, would you two be interested in being in the ensemble for the workshop?" Jessica and Dennis exchanged looks. The money for workshops wasn't great. They both look at Ivy. She hoped they would follow her put she wasn't going to put them under any pressure.

"We'll definitely think about it." came their reply. They all clinked their glasses together and spent the evening gossiping about the latest broadway news. Apparently, Spiderman had maimed yet another ensemble member.

"I was supposed to be in that show." Dennis exclaimed.

"Thank God that fell through."

"Yeah. Wouldn't want that body out of commission." agreed Tom, flirting. Dennis looked exceedingly pleased.

"Guess its a good thing you scooped me up then." Dennis replied, looking Tom up and down. But before the two men could continue their witty banter, Tom's phone rang.

"Ugh, its Derek. You'd think he'd hold the Marilyn stuff until tomorrow and let you celebrate."

"Play nice Tom. He's not as bad as you think. I mean, he came to see me, didn't he?" she defended. Honestly, Derek wasn't nearly as bad as people made him out to be, at least not from what she'd seen. Tom gave her a look and Jessica eyed her suspiciously. _Crap. _She blushed, realizing how that must have sounded. Dennis and Tom would probably let it go but Jessica? Ivy mentally prepared herself for the barrage of questions that would certainly be fired at her once Tom vacated the area. She wasn't disappointed.

"C'mon Ivy. Give it up. What's the deal with you and Derek Wills?" Jessica asked, giving her the _and-tell-the-truth_ look.

"It's nothing. We just..."

"Oh my god Ivy! You slept with him." Dennis interjected, putting the pieces together. There was no point in denying it now.

"It was just one time." she said, trying to defuse the situation.

"When did this happen?" shouted Dennis. She shushed him.

"Dennis, keep it down alright. Tom **cannot** know about his. He hates Derek's guts. It happened about a week ago when we were rehearsing."

"He casting couched you?" Jessica asked.

"No. He just... I don't know. One second I was doing a scene and the next, we were making out. It was like a heat of the moment thing. I doubt it will happen again." Jessica didn't look convinced but before she could say anything, Tom reappeared. He seemed slightly dubious of the silence that ensued as he returned to the table so Ivy quickly changed the subject.

"You certainly took a while. What was that about?"

"Nothing too important, some stuff about sending him all my rough work. He's just so condescending. _Oh Tom, remember to give me a copy of everything, I need to keep on top of things." _imitated Tom, putting on a fake British accent and miming sipping tea. They all laughed a little too enthusiastically but Tom didn't seem to notice. He seemed distracted, his eyes kept looking up at the stage despite the fact that no one was playing. After a few minutes of his constant sideways glances, she figured out what he'd been waiting for. A man got up on the stage, the manager. She knew him fairly well as she and Tom often frequented this bar, talking to each other about boyfriends and the drama of theatre.

"Hey, I just heard that it's a special night for one of our friends. Ivy Lynn, just landed a big gig playing Marilyn in a new musical headed for broadway." She laughed, smacking Tom in the shoulder. She knew that phone call couldn't have taken _that_ long.

"Come on Ivy. How about a song?" She shook her head but Dennis pushed her towards the stage, all three of them chanting her name. She ran down the aisle. Why not? It was her big night. Walking over to the pianist, she told him her song selection. She'd sung it here before so he already knew the arrangement. She grabbed the mic and started in on the first verse, glowing with happiness.

_Hello you long shots..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ivy had been serious when she told Jessica and Dennis that she thought her and Derek were going to be a strictly one night stand. That being said, she wasn't exactly disappointed when he showed up at her apartment a few nights later. And then again the next night. It got to be a semi-regular occurrence. He would usually just knock on her door whenever he felt like it and they would have sex. They hadn't really labelled what they were. She thought it might be some twisted combination of the casting couch and friends with benefits but she hadn't asked. It wasn't as if they talked much, he never stayed the night, usually leaving a few minutes after they were done. But tonight was different. She was lying on top of him still breathing hard.

'That was incredible." He most definitely lived up to his reputation.

"It was lovely." That sentence would have sounded idiotic coming out of anyone else's mouth, but on him the repressed British thing was sexy. She leaned in and kissed him again, stroking his cheek as she pulled away.

"Tom hasn't sent you a copy of the new song, has he?" It wasn't unusual from them to talk about the show afterwards. Actually, it was one of the few things they discussed.

"I don't think its finished."

"Great." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as his eyes clouded over and looked off into the distance, like they always did when he talked about the show.

"Three weeks until we start rehearsing and we've only got eight songs and half the book." Ivy stared down at him. She found it oddly fascinating how intense he was when it came to his work.

"You know Derek, I've been reading a lot about Marilyn and watching the DVD's." He smiled at this. Their mutual dedication was something they had in common.

"I'd really like it if... I'd really like to get together sometime and just work on her." she asked, hoping she wasn't pushing the boundaries.

"That's what we're doing darling." He pulled his head up and planted his lips on hers but Ivy pulled away. It bugged her when he made comments like that. Made her feel like she was playing a character in his fantasy. She gave him a look.

"Oh, It's a joke." Derek said, laughing when he saw her face.

"Of course, we can do that. I'll have my assistant call you and we'll put it in the books. Okay?" She nodded in agreement. And then he was flipping her over and they began on round two.

Three days later and she hadn't heard from Derek since he'd left her apartment at one in the morning. She'd just finished the show and she was backstage with Dennis and Jessica, cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to head out. Dennis was wondering out loud whether he should make move on Tom.

"I say go for it." Ivy said. They would be cute together and if it made them happy, she was all for it.

"Yeah." Jessica agreed.

"If Ivy can sleep with Derek then you can definitely sleep with Tom." Ivy threw a makeup pad a Jessica, anger flashing across her face.

"Whoa. What's up girl?" Jessica asked. Ivy's eyes widened in apology.

"Sorry. It's just..."

"How long has it been?" asked Dennis. Ivy sighed. She'd confessed to Jessica that morning that she was still sleeping with Derek. It wasn't surprising that it had already made it back to Dennis.

"Three days." It shouldn't bother her. It wasn't like they were together or something.

"That's not that long."

"Yeah, when your in high school and your boyfriend is an idiot." Jessica remarked. Ivy laughed painfully.

"He's not my boyfriend. We just have sex."

"Then why is this bothering you?" She didn't have an answer.

"You know what? Never mind. It's fine." she told them.

"What's fine?" Derek had suddenly appeared and was now leaning against the door forcing Dennis to back up awkwardly against the wall.

"Derek what are you doing here?" she asked, shocked. They never saw each other anywhere outside her apartment.

"Well, that's nice. I can go."

"No, no, no." came Jessica's voice.

"See you Ivy," she said, pulling Dennis out after her, leaving her and Derek alone in the dressing room.

"I saw the show tonight. You were terrific." she was slightly confused by the compliment, but pleased nonetheless.

"I look like duck in that costume."

"A very fetching duck." he replied, closing the door and allowing them some privacy. He reached over and pulled her into a kiss. She drew him closer. He was already fumbling with her belt and she with his shirt. This was how they were, she reminded herself. Casual sex, she could live with that, couldn't she?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Ivy's phone was ringing. She rushed over to it, finding herself hoping it was Derek. _Stop it Ivy. _She chided herself. _Don't get attached._Relationships had never really worked out for her. She'd learned long ago that finding love was hopeless and that most of the time, you just got hurt. She had the scars, both emotional and physical to prove it. Glancing down at the caller display, she saw it was Dennis and picked it.

"Oh my god, Ivy I am so sorry, it just slipped out. I wasn't thinking. Please don't hate me." Dennis was almost hyperventilating.

"Whoa, whoa. Dennis, slow down. What is this about?"

"I was having lunch with Tom and I was telling him how you encouraged me to ask him out and I may have mentioned that you and Derek are sleeping together." Oh, this was bad. This was very bad indeed. Ivy put her hand to her forehead.

"He's coming over there right now. I am so sorry Ivy."

"It's alright. He had to find out sometime." She had hoped that it would come out later rather than sooner but at least now she'd get it over with. She prepared herself. This was not going to be pretty. She hung up the phone and chugged a glass of wine.

"IVY!" She opened the door. Tom stood there looking absolutely furious.

"You're sleeping with him?" he yelled. Ivy sighed.

"Yes Tom. I am. But before you say anything. It's completely causal." She announced, hoping he would calm down.

"Oh god, that's even worse. Ivy, he is a horrible little man and you are worth so much more than that." Tom replied, getting more worked up.

"Tom, maybe you're judging him a little harshly." But this only wound Tom up even more.

"Ivy. You barely even know him. Trust me, he's awful. Why of all the men in New York, did you choose to screw Derek Wills?" Ivy looked at Tom. She realized it hadn't even crossed his mind that she had slept with Derek to get the part. He really thought too highly of her. She calmly explained.

"Look. He's attractive and he was perfectly pleasant to me. Plus, he **is** the director."

"You did this for the part? Ivy, you had it no matter what. Didn't your mother teach you about self-respect? " Ivy's head snapped up. She watched his face as he realized his mistake. Rule number one in the Ivy Lynn Handbook: Never bring up her mother.

"No Tom, she didn't." she replied venomously.

"And you know was well as me that he was on Karen's side up until I let him have sex with me. Has it ever occurred to you that I might actually like him? That it might be nice to have someone who actually wants me, even if it is just for my body. " She was spewing things she hadn't even knew she felt. She could feel tears forming behind her eyes and suddenly she was lying on the couch with Tom hugging her and apologizing as she sobbed quietly into his shoulder.

When Derek showed up a couple hours later, she wasn't sure how to feel. They had sex of course, but it was slower, more methodical than usual. Pleasant enough, but not wild and vaguely rough. the way to usually was. Derek was getting dressed when she spoke for the first time.

"Derek, can I... can I ask you a question?" she said, apprehension colouring her voice.

"Sure" he replied, pulling down his shirt cuffs.

"Why don't we ever go to your place?" Ivy knew that this was a huge question, one that could get her into a lot of trouble.

"Oh god."

"What?"

"It's ridiculous really. My neighbors on the floor below, they've just installed a new stove. One of those giant things that takes up half a room. I mean, it's so big that they had to get entirely new gas pipes. So they turned off the gas and now they've broken the gas and now I have no gas." She laughed but not for the reasons he might have thought. She wanted to believe his story. She wanted to believe it more than she realized but Ivy was no idiot. She knew when she was being lied too. And it surprised her how much it hurt that he wouldn't tell her the truth.

"I thought you didn't want me in your home or something." She said calmly, calling his bluff. Acknowledgement registered in his eyes. It was an unconventional relationship they had. They were both terrific liars but each saw through the other facade easily. Although they would never call the other out. They were far too smart for that.

"Darling, I want you everywhere." he replied, pulling them back to the part they were good at. The physical, the sexual. Emotions and feelings were messy and were proving too difficult to deal with. They kissed a couple times before he walked out the door. Ivy, despite herself, could feel the tears dripping down her cheeks as she watched him leave.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Ivy lay in her bed, tossing and turning. She had been there for hours, her mind too preoccupied to even think of the silly little matter of getting some rest. Rehearsals were starting tomorrow. She couldn't deny it any longer. Ivy Lynn was scared to death. The vagueness of becoming a broadway star had dissipated and the reality of show business was coming into focus. She had some serious work ahead of her and even that might not be enough. People were replaced like that in theatre. Karen Iowa or any number of better known celebrities could easily come and steal her part away from her and Derek wouldn't bat an eyelash. She couldn't stop of thinking of him either. She was aware that she was getting too emotionally invested in him but she couldn't stop. He infuriated her and enticed her at the same time. By now, she couldn't pull out even if she'd wanted to and she hated it. She hated giving him the advantage, hated that he was far less interested in her. She was replaceable there too, just another body to warm his bed.

Ivy stared up at the ceiling. Shivering, Ivy brought the blanket closer to her. She closed her eyes but sleep still alluded her. Slowly Ivy began reciting Marilyn movies in her head.

The clock read 8:00 when she woke up. _Crap._ Ivy had wanted to be early on the first day of rehearsals, start off on the right foot and make a good impression, but her insomnia had set her 30 minutes off schedule. She would make it but it would be a tight squeeze. _Well, at least they can't really start without me. _The thought made her feel a bit better. Rushing to the washroom, she stepped into the shower only to find it freezing cold. _Oh well _she mused _hopefully _it_'ll wake me up. _She was pretty used to this by now, there was never enough hot water to go around here. She quickly blow-dried her hair, making sure her blonde curls fell nicely around her face, and smeared makeup across her pale skin while throwing on her dance clothes. Her phone told her the time was 8:15. _Fuck. _If she didn't hurry, she was going to be late. Ivy quickly grabbed her bag and departed.

She got to the studio at 8: 28, giving her two minutes to make it look like she didn't just sprint through a crowded subway station. Ivy took a little mirror out of her purse and fixed her hair. Then she slid a pair of sunglasses onto her face . If she was lucky she would be able to keep them on until they started rehearsing and people got too distracted to notice the bags forming underneath her eyes. She realized it probably looked like she'd decided to make a star entrance, too good to show up early. And she'd let them, she was the lead after all. Why shouldn't people know it? Pushing the door open, she tossed her hair behind her and entered the room where everyone was dispersed, stretching and chatting. Derek sat just inside on a table. When he caught sight of her he clapped, getting everyone's attention.

"Okay everyone, here we go. Welcome... to Marilyn." he said, gesturing at her. She looked up from her things and smiled. Everyone in the room began clapping wildly. Most of the ensemble of this show were friends and co-workers of hers and they were happy seeing her succeed. She reveled in the spotlight, even Derek was applauding. She saw Jessica standing near the front and walked over to give her a hug.

"Alright." yelled Derek overing the clapping.

"Settle down. Thank you." Once he had gotten everyone's attention, he proceeded to explain the events of the day.

"Okay, obviously we're not going to have a table read because the book is still somewhat in flux." he started, glancing at Julia who looked guiltily at her feet, not at all pleased to be called out.

"So this'll be primarily for the ensemble. We'll put the rest in when the book is in better shape." Ivy excitedly realized that this didn't apply to her anymore. She stood up a little straighter.

"We'll be staging some of the numbers. Others will be at music stands. We'll have some costume elements, a few props but basically, it's up to you to sell it." he said, staring her straight in the eye. She looked back without blinking, as if she felt no pressure whatsoever but she could feel a nervousness creeping through her intestines.

"Now remember this is a workshop. The road to broadway is exceedingly long. So let's get to it." She knew he hadn't meant it as a threat to her but she couldn't help interpret it as such. Ivy frowned, barely hearing Tom telling them that they were doing 20th Century Mambo first. Luckily Jessica nudged her playfully bringing her out of her daze. She beamed at her friend, molding herself back into confident Ivy. As she turned to go get a chair, she heard a voice greet her.

"Blondie." Instantly, all her previous insecurities were forgotten. That could only be one person.

"You trying to go to broadway without me." Sam enveloped her in a giant hug. She hadn't seen him in ages!

" When did you get back?" Sam had recently been on tour with Rent, understudying Benny. Same replied but she didn't hear him, Derek was approaching.

"Everything okay children?" he said condescendingly. He looked almost angry.

"You hired Sam!" she exclaimed happily, wrapping her arm around her friend. Derek's frowned deepened. Was he jealous? Her heart jumped at the mere thought and she silently berated it for doing so.

"Yes. I did."

"We did Chicago together.. 6 years ago?"

"Ten." Sam said, jostling her. Trust him to make her feel old.

"We were in the ensemble together. And now you're Marilyn." he said, grinning.

"Actually no one's anyone until we start rehearsing." said Derek with a pointed glance toward the piano where everyone else was assembled.

"Got it." They both rushed over, Sam pulling a funny face.

Sam stopped at the back of the huddle. Ivy was planning on staying with him but then everyone began to part. She was supposed to stand at the front. Happily, she sauntered forward and joined Tom by the piano.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

They were singing when she realized it. At first she thought she'd been imagining it. How blind did you have to be to miss your main competitor standing right in front of you? But it seemed she had. By the time they hit the last few bars, she could hear the voice loud and clear over the rest of the ensemble. Karen Cartwright was somewhere in this room. When they finally broke for ten, she faked a hundred watt smile and searched for the brunette. She found her talking to Sam.

"You have a really fantastic voice. Did you hear her?" Sam asked Bobby, another chorus boy who Ivy counted among her closest friends.

"Yeah. She sounded great." Bobby replied insincerely, talking his leave as quickly as possible. Ivy stealthily began inching closer to the two that were left.

"I knew the song before. It was my callback piece." she heard Karen explaining.

"Callback for what?"

"For Marilyn." Fury flashed through Ivy's blue eyes. Couldn't Iowa just leave well enough alone? Did she really need to go around telling everyone how Ivy had almost lost to her? She wrapped her hands possessively around Sam.

"Well, I'm singing it now." She hadn't meant for it to come out sounding quite so nasty but she didn't really regret it either. She released a slightly befuddled Sam from her grasp and hooked her arm around Dennis, who was standing nearby.

"How come no one told me she was going to be here?" she asked him.

"Derek didn't tell you?"

"No." She was growing more pissed off by the second. Not only was there a constant reminder of how close she had been to losing this staring at her every day but Derek, the man who she slept with on a near daily basis, hadn't had the decency to give her a head's up?

"Don't worry." said Dennis.

"We're ignoring her." Ivy leaned over and hugged Dennis. She was so lucky to have everyone backing her up. Karen could have gallons of talent and an angel's voice but she would never be able to buy Ivy's years of experience and heaps of connections. She knew that everyone in the ensemble, given the choice, would pick her over Karen. Chorus kids stuck together. No matter whether or not she was still technically still one of them.

Even so, Ivy spent the next day hearing Karen's voice constantly. Was the girl so green that she didn't know how to blend? Or was she purposefully upstaging Ivy? The Eve Harrington to her Margo Channing.

They were running the new number "I Never Met A Wolf Who Didn't Love To Howl," when she finally cracked. Derek had placed Karen directly to her right and the taller woman was belting right into her ear. Even after the assistant choreographer told her to take it down a notch, she was still throwing her all into it, enough so that Ivy could tell that Derek's eyes were starting to drift left.

"I'm sorry. Can we just stop? I'm so sorry. I'm just having a little trouble hearing myself. The chorus is very enthusiastic."

"Ensemble." corrected Bobby. She barely heard him as she turned to Karen, looking the Iowan right in the eye.

"Well, not everyone seems to understand that that means _as one._" The tension in the air was palpable.

"Alright, can we take our ten?" asked Derek.

"Actually that's lunch." replied the stage manager, an asian woman that Ivy hadn't met yet. Everyone scurried off quickly, glad to be out of the way of fire. Ivy walked to the back of the room to grab some water and calm down. She knew she was being kind of a diva but someone had to tell Karen that she wasn't the star of this show, Ivy was. She watched as Derek sat down beside her, slightly worried that he was going to reprimand for the little stunt she'd just pulled. But instead he surprised her by asking her if she was okay. God, he was difficult to follow sometimes. They hadn't had a real conversation since the day Tom found out about them and now here he was seeming genuinely concerned.

"Absolutely." she lied. She could see that he didn't really believe her but he chose to drop it.

"Have you ever heard of the actor Lyle West?" He said, changing the subject. A little confused, she replied

"That kid from all the TV shows?"

" I gave him his first job when he was eight years old. I made him a star."

"Aww.." she said, prodding him, her voice high pitched and squeaky.

"You're so sentimental." He laughed.

"Yeah, well, I'm sentimental enough to throw him a birthday party this Saturday night. Do you wanna come?" Ivy's jaw nearly hit the floor. Was he actually asking her to be his date? Like take you out in public and fully admit I'm sleeping with you date? Ivy was aware how sad it was she was this excited about this but she couldn't contain herself. Derek was actually acknowledging their relationship!

"I...well... Sure. I'd love to." she replied, barely choking out the words.

"Good." And then he was tracing a pattern up and down her arm with his finger. What was going on here? He removed his hand and they just sat together, in comfortable silence until Derek heard his phone beep.

"Oh. Look, I gotta run. I've got a lunch meeting." Ivy had secretly hoped that they might go to lunch together so she could savour his unexpected turnaround but she wasn't too disappointed. She was planning to have lunch with Tom anyway. He had finally begun to forgive her, and she him, after the whole Derek debacle. Ivy was glad. She could not live without Tom in her life, even when he was being majorly judgemental. She told Derek her whereabouts.

"Well, ask him when the new song is coming." She nodded although she hated when the two forced her to carry messages between them. Ivy lay back in her chair as Derek sauntered away. A couple of meters away the entire ensemble was pointing at her and giggling. Looks like the cat was officially out of the bag. And Ivy couldn't have been happier.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

By the end of the week Karen had been cut from, not one, but two numbers. Ivy hadn't really expected anything to come from her mini temper tantrum but, between Tom and a still weirdly sweet Derek, she had managed to get the girl out of both Wolf to Howl and History Is Made At Night. She felt mildly bad for doing so, especially since Bobby ended up being collateral damage, but the brunette really was distracting during the group numbers. And she'd apologized profusely to Bobby and promised to let him rifle through her closet and judge her clothes. He seemed to have forgiven her.

The others had gone out to some undisclosed location but Sam had stayed to keep her company while she got ready for Derek's party. She was pulling on her new dress, when Sam looked up from his Sports Illustrated.

"Hey Blondie, why are you so hard on Karen?" Ivy sighed. She didn't really feel like having this discussion but Sam didn't look like he was going to drop it.

"I don't know Sam. It's just she's so big. I didn't work my ass off for ten years just to be upstaged by somebody who doesn't even know.." But Sam interrupted her.

"Look. No. I get it. I'm just saying you didn't have to pull a diva on her." Ivy scoffed.

"I didn't even pull half a diva and trust me, they never would have cut her just to make me feel better. " This was fully true. Derek would never have pulled Karen out of the ensemble unless she'd been doing something wrong. He was too professional for that. Sam looked exasperated.

"Ivy baby, it's not like I know this chick. I'm not at all worried about her feelings, it's just that... Oh no. Look at this." Ivy turned towards the curtain she was dressing behind.

"What?"

"It's my Mets. They have like no pitching this season. None." Ivy rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm not apologizing." she said, referring to their earlier conversation.

"Woman, for the last time. I am not asking you to apologize. I'm... Oh my god." Ivy studied herself in the mirror.

"Sam, the Mets are going to be fine." she said, noncommittally. She really didn't follow sports at all.

"Not _oh my god _the poor Mets. Oh my god, you look amazing."

"I do?"

"You do."

"Really?"

"Really." She was ecstatic. Ivy had spent hours at the secondhand store searching through racks for the perfect dress. She was glad that someone was getting some enjoyment out of it. Even if he was gay, it felt good to be admired. Although the true test would come later that evening, when she met up with Derek.

"It's a Zac Posen. I think it's only been worn once and the zipper still works and everything." She turned around and Sam helped zip her up.

"You are gonna knock the Dark Lord off his feet tonight." he told her using the cast's pet name for the intimidating director.

"I hope so." she whispered.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing. It's just that this is technically our first date. I want to make a good impression." Sam pulled a face at this.

"You've been doing the nasty for over a month and this is the first time he's taken you out?"

"It's a weird relationship, okay?"

"What ever floats your boat Blondie, what ever floats your boat."

Ivy stood outside an apartment, a piece of paper with a number on it clasped in her hand. She knocked and hoped that she had the right one. She realized that this was her first time seeing his house and she stood up straighter at the thought. They were making progress. Very slow progress. She told herself not to expect too much attention tonight. His inviting her was a big enough step for now.

When the door finally opened there was a waiter there to take her jacket. He guided her up the stairs and asked for her name. Once everything was in order, she was free to take a look around Derek's living quarters. She suddenly wished she had made a bigger fuss when he'd lied about his gas because his penthouse was gorgeous. The ceilings were impossibly high, the decor screamed modern chic but with just enough expensive artwork to make it worth more than her entire family put together. As she entered the living room she heard someone singing and playing the beautiful grand piano. She looked around the crowd to see what she assumed was Lyle West, the child superstar. He was smiling his hands gliding over the piano. She liked him instantly. He had curly brown hair and dimples and was about 10 years younger than her. It was funny to think that this kid had enough money to buy and sell Derek's apartment a hundred times over. The power to decide whether Marilyn, and in turn, her, ever got off the ground.

As he finished his song she saw Derek walking over to the piano and speaking to Lyle. Probably giving him some birthday wishes. She watched as they made her exchanges until Derek felt her eyes on him and excused himself. When he had finally made his way over to her, he kissed her on the cheek. Ivy was positively glowing.

"You look stunning." Her smile grew even bigger.

"You're place is beautiful." she replied, without irony, not even trying to make him feel guilty for not showing it to her sooner. He then gestured for her to follow him to meet Lyle.

"Lyle. This is Ivy. She's playing my Marilyn." The young man stood up and kissed her hand.

"I can immediately see why they cast you as Marilyn. That dress is amazing."

"Lyle, this is very precocious behaviour for a 15 year old." Derek interjected, joking.

"I'm 12 jerk." Lyle said, throwing it right back at him

"And precocious would be showing her the bedrooms." He turned to her.

"Would you like to see the bedrooms?" She giggled.

"Oh, you're adorable." she replied, cleverly avoiding the question.

"She's thinks I'm joking." Lyle said, looking back at Derek.

"I so wish you didn't think that." She was starting to feel a little awkward, so she moved on to something she already knew they had in common.

"You played beautifully." she told him, taking a step closer.

"Well, I'll leave you two to chat a bit" Derek got up to leave, giving her another cheek kiss as if to tell Lyle _this is my territory._ She knew she should have been pissed off at being objectified like that but she was truly too happy to care. Ivy sat down at the piano bench next to the young brunette.

"So, what's going on with you and Derek?" the kid asked. She was taken aback, she didn't think he would be quite so up front.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure." she admitted.

"Well, be careful." the boy cautioned her.

"I've known Derek since I was a little kid and I haven't seen him stay with one girl for longer than two weeks before." She smiled at Lyle, not for the warning, but for the confirmation that she was lasting longer than most of his other conquests. They moved onto more artistic topics. She asked him where he'd learned to play the piano and he showed her a few more songs, including one he had written himself. In return, she gave him a few bars of Wolf to Howl, getting him to singalong and fill in for the ensemble. They exchanged phone numbers before they both moved on. She had found a kindred spirit in the child superstar.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It had been a couple hours and Ivy was feeling supremely awkward. After Lyle had disappeared she hadn't been able to find anyone to talk to. Most of these people were rich producers and directors. She had more in common with the wait staff then she did with most of the guests. Every so often Derek would come and pull her toward some potential investors, usually middle aged men, who sized her up, licking their lips, their wives not two feet away. She knew that it was important to the show that she impressed them but it didn't stop her from wanting to slap those pigs in the face.

Which was why she was more than happy when Julia came up to her and Derek, telling them to meet her in the corner near the poster of one of Derek's many successful movies. As soon as they finished up their conversation with Merrick Walsh, a stock broker who spent most of his time trying to look down Ivy's dress, they set off for the assigned meeting place.

"What's going on?" Derek asked, obviously annoyed at being sidetracked. Ivy saw that Tom was there too with a tall man in a suit that she assumed was his date. What **was** going on? A few seconds later, Michael Swift, the man playing Joe DiMaggio showed up as well. They all looked at each other in confusion. Why did Eileen want them all here?

"Ah, I see the reinforcements have arrived. I knew they would." Eileen entered the little group with Lyle on her arm. She uttered one word.

"Showtime."

And within minutes they were all assembled around the piano once more. Tom was handing out sheet music to the band that had been hired for the night, Julia and Michael were off recruiting dancing waiters and Derek and Eileen were trying to quiet the crowd. Ivy was standing there in puzzlement, wondering how exactly she was going to pull this number off without dancing because there was no way she could do the choreography in this dress. Suddenly Lyle began speaking.

"Today is my birthday. I'm so glad your all with me. Derek Wills and Tom Levitt cast me in my first musical, off broadway when I was just eight. So, they were best friends..." Ivy's head spun around. Had she heard that right? Tom and Derek? Best friends?

"As well as being the best friends an eight-year old wannabe musical theatre star could hope for. So I asked them, as a gift, to play me a song from their new musical 'Marilyn' and they said yes!" The audience burst into applause, obviously expecting a big lavish number. Ivy's nerves intensified. How was she possibly going to impress some of New York's most elite with her voice as her only tool?

Tom saw her and gave her a comforting smile and headed over to the piano.

"We just started learning the big USO number where Marilyn sings to the troops, that sound like something you might want to hear?" Once again, everyone in the room clapped loudly. She smiled and waved while praying she wouldn't mess up in front of all these people. And then Tom gestured to Ivy.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Marilyn herself, Ivy Lynn." The music started and she forced herself to concentrate. She vamped and played it sexy, making most of the movement up on the spot. Ivy parading around, grabbing men's ties and sliding her hand down their chests, producing as much charisma as humanly possible. As the number progressed she could see everyone smiling at her. They liked her! As she reached the third verse, Ivy began to forget how important this was and just have fun. She sauntered over to Lyle, who was sitting on a nearby couch and leaned into him, touching his chin before pulling him onto his feet. They were dancing and he was singing along to the parts she had taught him. As she hit the final note, the crowd went crazy, whooping and applauding wildly.

Ivy couldn't contain her joy. That is, until she spied Derek out of the corner of her eye. He was standing in the corner talking to a tall, exotic looking woman, his hand creeping lower and lower, stroking her ass. Ivy knew they had never really discussed their situation but was he really blatantly picking up other woman right in front of her? Had he even seen her perform? Ivy had really thought that they might have been going somewhere. She should have realized that it was too good to be true, especially with Derek. Ivy kicked herself for being so stupid but by now, Ivy was fully ready to admit it. It had started out as a way to get a job but she had come to actually really like Derek, maybe even...

"You are thrilling! Honestly." Lyle appeared out of thin air with his guitar, looking adorable. He'd flirted with her, even joked about sleeping with her. And if Derek wanted to have sex with that woman, she could have sex with Lyle. Ivy knew she would probably regret it in the morning, but right now, it felt like exactly what she needed.

"Are you still interested in showing me those bedrooms?" Lyle immediately nodded, grabbing her arm and handing his instrument off to Tom, who looked extremely surprised. She followed him up the stairs, into a long hallway. When Lyle had said bedrooms, he had meant bedroom**S. **There had to be at least five up here. And she and Derek had been using her house for all this time, with her little double bed. Ivy was getting more annoyed by the second. Lyle opened the first door on the right. It was a deep red colour and a beautiful Picasso reproduction hung on the wall. She went for a closer look and realized the initials in the corner where D.W. She hadn't known Derek painted.

"This is the guest bedroom." Lyle announced picking up two baubles and placing them in front of his eyes with an immaturity she found refreshing. It had been a while since she had been able to just be a silly kid again. He pulled her through a set of doors into the adjoining room, telling her it was part of the guest suite. Guest suite? Her whole apartment would fit in here. Lyle opened the next door.

"Milady." he said, gesturing grandly and holding out his hand. She took it and allowed him to show her to the next space, giggling the whole time.

"This is the third bedroom." Lyle told her. It was a beige colour, not as overstated. She decided she liked it better than the garnish one she'd just left.

"This one's even nicer... Eileen, hey." Ivy felt like a child caught as she realized that the producer was sitting on the bed, gazing at what looked to be a sketch.

"I'm so sorry." she said, eyes darting between Eileen and Lyle, not really sure what she was saying sorry for.

"There's no need to apologize. I was just looking at past happiness." Ivy suddenly felt very flustered, she averted her glance, feeling like she had just interrupted something.

"But you're my happiness now. You were wonderful." the older woman said, looking right into her eyes. A warmth spread through Ivy. Such a direct compliment from Eileen meant more to her than she could ever put in words. She had no prior history with Eileen. This was just an appreciation of her talent. For a moment, she wished that she'd never gotten involved with Derek just so she could experience this pure form of acceptance from him. Lyle told Eileen that he would come to her office and sign the papers on Saturday and then they both exited.

She and Lyle continued down the hallway in silence until Lyle spun her toward him gently and kissed her. The kiss wasn't unpleasant but she was stuck by how wrong it felt. Quickly, she turned her head away.

"Lyle, I'm really sorry but..."

"Nah, don't worry about. I get it. Can't blame a guy for trying though." he said, winking at her.

"Thanks." she whispered, pulling the younger man into a hug, glad that things wouldn't be awkward between them. He really was a great kid. She departed and climbed back down the stairs, a deep sense of melancholy rushing through her veins.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

When Ivy arrived at the studio a few weeks later she was already stressed. Her mother had just announced that she was making a trip down to Manhattan to attend the upcoming workshop. Of course, Ivy had tried to dissuade her but once Leigh Conroy set her mind to something, especially something pertaining to her daughter, there was little Ivy could do to change her mind. Besides, her parents' considerable wealth combined with Leigh's diva status pretty much guaranteed her a seat in the workshop whether Ivy wanted her there or not. The news had put her in a foul mood and the sight of Derek with Karen in his arms certainly didn't help the matter. It was one thing to touch the ass of a rich investor, an offence that they had never formally discussed, but Karen Cartwright? Was he purposely pitting Ivy against her in every way, in a sick plot to make her work harder? Whatever the reason, Ivy was pissed.

"Am I late?" she asked loudly, aware of the hostility colouring her voice. Derek didn't even react, not that she'd really expected him to.

"Nope, Karen was early."

"Okay everyone, our Marilyn's here. Let's do 'Let's Be bad'. Take it from the top." Everyone assembled quickly and began the dance sequence that happened right before she entered. After quickly putting her things down and shrugging off her jacket, Ivy got into her starting position. She had barely entered the number when she heard his voice shouting for them to stop.

"Ivy. Stop doing Marilyn." He told her.

"Excuse me?" She asked, looking for some clarification.

"Stop trying to impersonate her. You're playing it too big." He didn't even give her time to react before he was gesturing for Josh, the assistant choreographer, to start the music again. Grudgingly, she began once again. He stopped her two more times giving her the same crisp direction, not allowing her any time to ask questions or really process the information being handed to her. By lunch she was ready to murder someone.. Nothing was working. It wasn't just Derek. Karen's presence continued to throw her off. The book was coming in at a snail's pace with the writing all over the place and Eileen was still having trouble fundraising. Lyle's money would probably cover the workshop but then what? Ivy was incredibly frustrated. In theory, everyone involved was top notch but something just wasn't jelling. She thought vaguely of Tom and Derek? What was going on there? And Julia was distracted, everyone could see it. Ivy had the notion that it might have something to do with a certain Joe DiMaggio, but she didn't say anything. It wasn't her business to pry and she had enough on her plate as it was. She'd seen far too many shows never get off the ground and she was determined that this wouldn't be one of them. Pushing all thoughts of the behind the scenes drama, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, getting Marilyn right. Grabbing her binder, she opened up to one of the many sketch-type scenes that Julia had managed to pull together.

This one was nearer to the beginning of the show where she was still portraying Norma Jean. It was always increasingly difficult for Ivy to get the scene's of the younger Marilyn right and they required far more effort on her part. There was an element of Ivy that made it almost impossible for her to play innocence. A broken quality she was all too aware of. She knew that Derek was planning on running the book with her and Michael that afternoon while the ensemble worked on some of the dance breaks and she wanted to be ready. Although she couldn't deny his talent, the director was extremely nit-picky, especially when it came to her. He wouldn't accept anything less than perfection out of Ivy.

She studied the lines, looking for hints she might have missed. Something that would tell her about the character, help her connect. But, try as she may, Norma Jean seemed as emotionally unattainable as ever. Sighing, she closed the script and lay back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Soon enough, Linda, the stage manager, was calling them back. The room emptied quickly until it was just the three of them standing alone.

It could have gone much worse. Ivy managed to fake her way through the first few scenes, not really excelling until they got to the scene where Norma Jean seduces Mr. Xanac. But Derek didn't say anything. He was highly unresponsive when they worked one on one, in direct contrast to his very vocal criticism when the whole cast was around. Another annoying trait of the intense director. When she actually needed the help he refused to provide it. They were about halfway through the intro to National Pastime when he stopped her.

"Ivy. Tone down the Marilyn accent please," she complied and tried to infuse the lines with more of her natural speaking voice. A minute or two later, he chimed in again.

"Don't play it so overtly sexual. There needs to be some purity." Once again she reigned back and continued. Michael flubbed his lines twice but Derek didn't even seem to notice. His eyes were trained on Ivy. They moved quickly through the scenes, doing them out of order. By the time they made it through the DiMaggio scenes, she had been given several notes, some contrasting each other and all of them difficult to follow. Derek dismissed Michael but told Ivy to hold back.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Ivy flopped down onto a nearby chair. Derek situated himself across from her.

"I need you to work out Norma Jean." She nodded.

" I know this is playing against type for you but you have to figure her out." He was being nice now and it was a perfectly reasonable request. It infuriated Ivy that she still couldn't follow through.

"That's all." She grabbed her bags and made her way for the elevator, Derek trailing a few steps behind. They both entered in silence, each consumed by thoughts of the show. It was only when they were about halfway down that they were jerked back into reality. The little cubicle had stopped moving. Making a sound of extreme annoyance, Derek began pressing buttons but the attempt was futile. They were stuck. The studio had come cheap so the facilities were subpar at best and there was no security to speak of.

Ivy reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. She texted Tom and Julia, hoping that one of them was nearby. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Derek doing the same although he was probably contacting Eileen. They seemed fairly close. Once it became evident that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon Derek sat down on the floor, taking out his script and beginning to thumb through it. Ivy leaned over and looked at the pages. They were nearly illegible for the amount of scribbles and notes that adorned the pages. It didn't surprise her. In fact, it looked very much like her own. Derek's brow was furrowed and he looked as though he didn't want to be bothered. So she produced her binder as well and they sat together, both concentrating. It had been about five minutes when Derek slammed his book shut, running his fingers through his messy brown hair, huffing loudly.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"No." She gave him a look. He'd never been one for expressing his emotions but the show was the one thing that they both cared about dearly. There was silence for a moment as Derek contemplated sharing his problems with his fuck buddy. Eventually, his desire to better the show won out.

"The transition to the dance break in 20th Century Fox is off and I can't fix it." His finally allowing her into his mind was a fascinating display for Ivy who was only used to angry director Derek or sexual Derek. The idea of a vulnerable Derek, or a Derek in slightly over his head was foreign to her. Suddenly, she was quite glad that the elevator had stopped.

"Do you want me to help?" she questioned in what she hoped was a casual manner. He thought this over for a second.

"Come to rehearsal a half hour early tomorrow. We'll see what we can work out." She smiled. His admitting he needed her help, even if it was just for the show, was something Ivy had never experienced before.

The moment was broken when Ivy heard the faint trilling of her phone. She picked it up hoping that it meant she would soon be out. As lovely as Derek's company was, she was hungry and tired.

"Ivy, darling." Her mother. _Wonderful _she thought sarcastically.

"Hi," she responded, purposefully not revealing who it was.

"I just wanted to call to tell you that I'm definitely coming to see Marilyn. I got confirmation today."

"That's great."

"Anyway, I'll need your address or are you still living in your little apartment?" Ivy sighed, her mother knew where she currently resided, this was just another one of her confidence killing techniques.

"Yes. I'm still living in the same place." Derek looked over, slightly intrigued by her conversation now. All the more reason to end it quickly.

"Oh Ivy, I wish you'd let your father and I put you up in a nicer house. I know you want to be independent but really, the pay to be in the ensemble can't be enough to support you."

"Mom," she said through gritted teeth, forgetting all about Derek.

"I'm in a workshop now." That didn't pay any better and they both knew it but Leigh dropped it in favour of a juicer topic: Ivy's love life.

"What about that director, Derek Wills? What's going on there?" Derek heard his name and he moved closer. Ivy cursed herself for leaving the volume up so high.

"Look, Mom. I have to go. We'll talk about it later." she told her, hanging up before Leigh could respond.

Ivy felt absolutely humiliated. Her eyes were watering, they always did when she got frustrated and Derek had just witnessed a part of her, she had done her best to hide. Sure, she had played the needy girlfriend before, but he'd never seen the depth of her brokenness.

"It was my mom. She can be a handful." she tried to joke, blinking rapidly, desperately trying to dry her eyes.

"Yeah. Parents can be difficult sometimes." he replied vaguely, but the look on his face told her that he was speaking from experience.

"She's coming down in a couple of weeks for the workshop so she just wanted to get the details."

Derek eyed her quizzically.

"The workshop?" _Shit. _She hadn't meant to tell him that part. Ivy usually tried to avoid divulging her mother's identity to anyone. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now.

"Yeah. She's kind of a performer, so she pulled some strings to get in." It was an understatement but Ivy could see Derek putting it all together. His knowledge of the theatre world combined with this new information would probably be enough for him to figure out exactly who she was. Ivy mentally punched herself. That was the last thing she needed, another reason for people to think she hadn't got the part based purely on her talent. She looked at the ground.

"My father is a musician." he said abruptly, almost blurting it out, as if he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"Look's like we're both theatre legacies then." she replied, trying to lighten the mood.

"Look's like." he responded, breaking a small smile, although Ivy noticed it looked slightly pained.

It was obvious that neither parties wanted to talk about their families and so they moved onto less sensitive topics. Over the next hour they talked a bit about the book of the show, about Marilyn, about other shows running on broadway. As Ivy exited the elevator an hour later, she realized that it was the first conversation they'd had out of rehearsal that hadn't ended in sex.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Ivy's alarm clock went off an hour early the next morning. She wanted to get to the studio bright and early so she could be stretched and ready when Derek came to work through the staging with her. She showered and straightened her blonde locks, pulling on some tight but comfortable clothing before heading out, somewhat satisfied with her appearance. As expected, no one else was there when she arrived but she managed to flirt the building manager into opening the door for her. She was running through the steps of the number when Derek sauntered in, decked out in his usual head to toe black. It was almost as if he wanted people to be frightened of him. He watched as she completed the dance flawlessly, her technique impeccable. Ivy was trained, that much everyone was certain of. Crossing his arms and leaning against the table he waited for her to grab a drink and catch her breath before speaking.

"Alright. I've recently been informed that we can't make the costume change work with the ensemble positioned as they are now. I just need you to do the section right before while I figure out where I can move you so that it won't be so obvious you've left the stage." He was in full on director mode now and Ivy figured it would be best to just follow his instructions. They spent the next fifteen minutes running the sequence over and over with her jumping on the table at a different location each time. They had settled on moving the ensemble further stage right so that she could sneak off during the dance break and were doing a final run through when it happened.

The table they were using had never been fully reliable even when it was four ensemble members and not just Derek wheeling it around the stage. The imbalance of pressure was too much for the feeble thing to take and one of the wheels snapped off, tipping the table and sending Ivy hurtling towards Derek. She crashed into him, knocking him over, causing both of them to end up on the ground, Ivy on top of Derek. Neither of them moved for a while, both stunned and slightly pained by the tumble. But slowly, she came to the realization that their faces were extremely close together, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"You okay?" he asked, real emotion flashing across his face.

"Mhmm," she replied, still making no effort to stand up. As they lay motionless, there was a brief moment where Ivy thought she saw something in his eyes. Something that seemed to go a little deeper than the concern a director should feel for one of his actors, especially when it was quite obvious that she was fine. And then he was kissing her. And despite their current positions it didn't feel sexually motivated. In fact, it was almost chaste, which struck her as very odd. Ivy didn't fully understand what was happening but she was enjoying it nonetheless. They broke apart as they heard the tell tale sounds of the elevator opening. Quickly, she stood and extended her hand to help him up as well. When Julia and Eileen walked in, she made an effort to look natural but her mussed clothing and Derek's swollen, lipstick stained mouth told a story of their own. Eileen raised her eyebrows questioningly at Derek. The director moved away from Ivy, taking his seat behind the table. He looked absolutely furious although Ivy wasn't entirely sure what his anger was directed at.

Over the next day, it became evident that whatever was bothering Derek was directly related to Ivy. He distanced himself from her considerably, not speaking to her unless it was in the context of the show. And his criticisms were fast becoming more and more harsh. Instead of delivering his notes in a blunt, emotionless fashion as he normally did, he would yell at her, as if her mistakes offended him on a personal level. Every time she started a song all she could see was Derek's face, staring back at her, expressionless. When she asked him for help, he would ignore her. And although she would deny it, his opinion mattered a lot to her. It was distracting when he looked so displeased.

As she sat down the next day, she tried to concentrate on her music, the lyrics were constantly being shuffled around and she'd rather not give Derek any reason to call her out for incompetence. She was halfway through the first verse of Let's Be Bad and he was already yelling at her.

"Ivy. Stop. The vibrato."

"I'm sorry?" she asked, locking eyes with him.

"You're not getting the vibrato on the note the way Marilyn did." He was being extremely nitpicky.

"I thought that's what I just did." She said, slightly annoyed that he felt the need to mention a miniscule detail in front of the entire group.

"No. You didn't."

"Well, it's hard on a belt." she defended. It was true, hitting the high notes in her Marilyn voice was extremely difficult.

"Oh for goodness sakes, where's Karen?" Ivy's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm right here." came a voice a couple rows back.

"Show her how to do this." She stared at Derek intently. Was he actually going to do this? Evidently, he was, because a couple of seconds later Karen was on her feet, hesitantly singing a quiet rendition of Happy Birthday. She glowered at the brunette, wishing she could sink into the floor. When she finished, Ivy could hear murmurs of _She sounds good_ and _Wow, what a voice._ Her anger only intensified when Derek announced that Karen should "work with her" on her vibrato. And then he told her to start again as if nothing had happened.

_If you say something is taboo_

_Well, that's the thing I wanna do_

_Do it till we're black and blue_

_Let's be bad._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Ivy sat in her empty apartment, the lights off. She was currently bridging the gap between off-your-face drunk and sober and it was not a pleasant jump. Her head pounded and, now that the alcohol was wearing off, she felt her aggravation return, just as potent as before. The show was not living up to its original promise. Julia was off her game and Ivy knew it had something to do with Michael. After the conversation she'd had with him over drinks that evening she'd deduced what happened. Ivy wasn't one to judge. When you were as fucked up as she was you didn't concern yourself with criticizing other people's bad decisions. But it was starting to affect the show and that did not sit well with Ivy.

There wasn't much she could do about it though. Maybe mention it to Derek? Of course, given the fact that he'd barely said a word to her in the past few days, that might be difficult. Another facet of Ivy's life that was in a shambles. She still didn't know what she'd done to deserve his wrath. Michael had tried to goad her into confronting him but Ivy had chickened out. If nothing else, she wanted to keep her dignity intact. Going over to his place at midnight, inebriated and angry, didn't exactly promote the image of a stable, reasonable girlfriend. Although, she wasn't sure she could label herself as such given his treatment of her. She was in a relationship where she spent large amounts of time wondering if the guy even liked her, let alone anything deeper. Her mind flashed back to that morning with the table. Had it really only been a week?

Ivy was about to call it a night when she heard the trill of her doorbell. Grabbing a housecoat and wrapping it around herself, she moved towards the door. Silently she treaded across the room clutching her cell phone in one hand. It was nearly two o'clock. Who would come to her apartment this late at night?

Leaning up, she gazed through the peephole. Just outside her door stood Derek, his face an emotionless mask. Once the initial shock of Derek actually being there wore off, she briefly toyed with the thought of leaving him there to wallow. After all, he deserved after what he'd pulled today. She'd nailed "Let's Be Bad," garnering a standing ovation from the entire cast. Except for Derek. He'd stormed out without so much as a backward look. It had been humiliating and confusing.

But a few moments of watching him staring straight ahead, unflinchingly, and she opened the door.

"Derek?" she asked tentatively. With his temperament as of late, who knew what he was here for? He didn't respond. Was he going to fire her? Panic began to set in.

"Ivy." he said, finally breaking the silence, taking a step towards her as he spoke. Eventually he made it close enough for her to feel his breath. It smelled strongly of scotch. Was he drunk? She couldn't tell. He seemed the type to hold his alcohol well. She craned her neck up so she could look him the eyes but he turned away before she could discern anything from them. She took a step closer, expecting him to do the same but instead he backed away. She paused and waited. Derek was the puppet master here, always had been. When they got together, it was on his terms, not hers. He called her, not the other way around. But he made no move. A minute past and they remained motionless.

Why was he here? He'd been avoiding her all week and now he suddenly appeared at her doorstep. Up until now they had been very structured, their trysts almost calculated. He would contact her, give her some warning, leaving her some time for them to prepare themselves. This was an unprecedented situation. Cautiously, Ivy walked forward and placed one hand on his neck. Gauging his reaction, she placed the other on the side of his face. Standing slightly on tiptoe she leaned in until their foreheads were touching. She could feel a certain intimacy form, like the feeling you got when you cuddled with someone. But before she could do anything more, he was taking back control. His hand snaked around her waist and neck, pulling her body up against his. He pressed his lips to hers demandingly. She allowed herself to follow him, grabbing his jacket and pushing it off as he ripped the front of her robe open. This was lust, plain and simple.

After he departed Ivy was left with this peculiar feeling, as though she had just run a marathon only to be sent back to the starting line.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

It was exactly seven days before the workshop when Ivy Lynn woke up with no voice. It had been a fitful night. Nerves had troubled Ivy from day one but with the big day drawing so near she was anxious to the point of dysfunction. Each and every waking moment was filled with Marilyn. When she wasn't at the studio, she was at home poring over her script, desperately trying to decipher the ever-changing book. They weren't prepared and everyone knew it. The strength of the material wasn't going to sell the show; they needed a star. Someone with exceptional charisma, raw sex appeal and a powerhouse voice. But they also needed to be able to portray the sweet, childlike vulnerability of Marilyn, the desperation to be loved and the barely masked insecurity. It was a lot to demand of a leading lady and Ivy was having serious doubts about her capability.

Derek's behaviour remained steadfastly abusive. After that one odd night, he'd only worsened. He had cut himself off from her entirely, criticizing her performance at every turn. Even Tom seemed preoccupied lately. He had a new boyfriend which generally meant that he shut everything else out, at least until he got bored and moved on. In short, Ivy was stressed beyond belief and emotionally and physically exhausted with no one to turn to. It wasn't surprising that she was having vocal issues, this amount of pressure was bound to take its toll.

Of course, the predictability of the situation was no comfort to Ivy. Once she realized that she couldn't sing, panic settled in. At this point her grasp on the show was tentative at best and this could be the nail in the coffin. Ivy was hyperventilating, feeling like she was about to puke.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she spent the next hour not talking at all, drinking buckets of tea with honey and periodically popping Ricolas. Her voice saw some improvement and she relaxed a little. Still being careful not to strain herself, she headed off for the studio.

But by the time they started rehearsal Ivy couldn't deny it any longer. There was something very wrong with her voice. She'd faked it during warm up but she knew once they started working on the actual show, she wouldn't be able to hide it. When Derek announced they were doing Let Me Be Your Star, Ivy was beside herself with worry. She frantically tried to warn the director but he ignored her, as per usual.

A couple verses in and it was apparent to everyone in the room that she having difficulties. Her singing was pitchy and the top notes were barely coming out. By the time she got to the bridge, her voice was cracking. Embarrassed, she asked to start over. _Concentrate Ivy _she told herself. But try as she might, she still couldn't sing. No amount of vocal technique could heal shredded vocal chords. The last note came out sounding more like a cat howling than anything.

Ivy's hand shot up to cover her mouth. Everyone in the room was staring at her, jaws dropped. Julia was looking pained, Derek furious. Even Tom was sending her a look that seemed to say "What just happened?" And there was Karen, staring at her with pity playing in her eyes. It was too much for Ivy to take. She ran out of the room, desperately trying to hold back tears.

A few hours later Ivy sat on her couch watching a Marilyn movie, trying to concentrate on the speech pattern but her mind kept drifting to what was going on in the studio. She'd received a text from Tom a few hours ago telling her that she was not to come to rehearsal for the rest of the day. Normally she would have argued but at this point, her voice or lack thereof was her main concern. She was well aware that she needed to get better fast. Job security was non-existent in the theatre, even when you were in prime form. Who was filling in for her? Karen? She shuddered at the thought.

For the second time that hour she tested her voice, singing the simplest of songs. But it was no use. Even twinkle, twinkle little star was coming out sounding ragged.

Sighing, she turned back and looked at the screen of her tiny television. Just as she was regaining her focus she heard a knock on the door. Walking over, she opened it and found Derek staring back at her. She was surprised he'd showed up. It was obvious she wasn't in any shape for their usual activities and it was out of character for him to check to see if she was alright. She stared at his face, but as usual it betrayed no sign of inner emotion. His pokerface was unsettlingly good. He followed her into her bedroom and sat down beside her, for once not entirely sure how to breach a topic.

"Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?" he asked, gesturing toward the tv. She nodded.

"God, that charisma." Ivy breathed to herself. She didn't know how she could possibly emulate that kind of star power. Marilyn wasn't a brilliant actor or a sensational singer but it was tantalizing watching her perform.

"She was certainly something," Derek agreed.

"She just had this..." she murmured, almost at a loss for words.

"Vulnerability." he replied quietly.

"She had innocence and purity underneath all that sexuality. She allured people without intimidating them." he continued. Ivy whirled her head around.

"Purity?" she questioned.

"Yes, purity. She never lost that sense of naivety she had the beginning."

"I wouldn't call her naive." Ivy replied. Growing up the way she did, bouncing around from foster home to foster home, no father and her mother in an asylum. No one could live through that and fancy themselves an innocent.

"Then what would you say, Miss Monroe?" he asked, cracking a small smile. Ivy was emboldened by the display. If he was teasing her, did that mean the cold front was finally finished?

"She was broken, even as Norma Jean. Her whole childhood, she never had anyone loving her." Ivy brooded thoughtfully.

"She spent the rest of her life trying to fill that void, trying to find love. And when she didn't get it, it just broke her even more."

Derek paused for a moment, looking at her, an odd expression playing on his face. She fiddled with a cushion. His unrelenting gaze was starting to make her feel a little uncomfortable.

"But despite all that, she never lost faith." Derek said, finally speaking.

"She kept on working and trying even though it never worked out. That was her naivety. She fell in love too fast, trusted far too easily. Marilyn knew the way the game was played yet she still fell into every trap." He explained, almost reverently.

Ivy nodded, but didn't respond. His ability to dissect personalities made her feel as if she were under a microscope. How much could he tell about her? She knew nearly nothing of him. It was disconcerting, Ivy normally prided herself on being observant. Living with Leigh Conroy for 18 years had taught her how to spot a snake in the grass, but the director was completely unreadable.

Ivy was just about to ask what he thought of public Marilyn versus private Norma Jean when the sound of the kettle boiling sent her running to the kitchen. She was dipping the tea bag into the water when Derek came in. His face had molded back into its usual ambiguousness, all traces of the faraway expression he got when he talked about the show gone.

"So what did the doctor say?" he asked, finally getting back to the topic that he had actually come to discuss.

"It's inflamed. Strain more than anything. Stress." she told him. His face barely moved, no relief, no annoyance. She realized Tom, who had accompanied her to the vocal specialist that morning, had probably already explained this to him.

"Well, he gave you prednisone right?" She nodded hesitantly.

"That's good. That stuff is a miracle worker." She wondered if Tom had told him about her sensitivity.

"Well, there are a lot of bad side effects and I don't react well to drugs," she said.

"Look, everybody uses the stuff, don't worry about it. If it helps it's worth it." he told her. She looked away. As much as she wanted to get better, she would really rather not risk what the prednisone could do to her.

"I have to go work on tomorrow's schedule." he continued, adjusting his jacket.

"If you can't do it we'll have to get the Cartwright girl to fill in, okay?" Ivy head whipped around to look at him, her eyes panicked. Was he actually maneuvering her into a position where she would have no choice but to take the drugs?

"We can't just waste the day." he said as he left, closing the door behind him soundlessly. And he was right. They couldn't stop the show, especially not this close to the workshop just because she wasn't in a position to sing. At this point, it would be inconvenient but not impossible to replace her. She sighed, now knowing what she had to do. She grabbed the bottle of pills from her bag and slipped the first dose into her mouth.

A few hours later and the prednisone had already begun to take effect. Ivy lay in bed, tossing and turning, feeling alternatively cold and hot, the room spinning slightly. The worst part was the panic. She felt trapped, like she was just about to perform but the curtain never came up. She was stuck perpetually in this state of fear. She heard a creaking noise from somewhere in her apartment and bolted upright, regretting it immediately as her head started pounding. She looked in the mirror across the room and was spooked by what she saw there. Her face was ghostly pale, her hair frizzy and her eyes sunken. Spots flashed in front of her eyes and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw someone else in her reflection. It passed quickly but she no longer wanted to be alone. Grabbing her phone, she contacted everyone and anyone she could think of but no one seemed to be available. Finally, her eyes landed on someone who had told her that they would be home all evening. Derek.

"Can you come over? I'm scared to death." she typed hesitantly.

She waited for over an hour before falling asleep, but he never responded.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

When they were finally let out of rehearsal the next day, Ivy felt like death. She had gotten through the day, but just barely. Let's Be Bad had been fine, better than fine actually. She had nailed it, proving to everyone that she was still on top of her game. In fact, her drug induced stupor, if anything, had made the scene more realistic. Even Derek had been pleased. The praise had helped get her through the morning but by afternoon, she was feeling awful again. The 20th Century Fox Mambo had always been one of her weaker numbers. She didn't feel nearly as comfortable playing Norma Jean and it didn't help that she all she could hear was Karen's voice whenever the song came on. She'd almost fallen off the table twice, prompting Derek to throw one of his most epic tirades. He'd wrung her out in front of the whole cast, yelling something about her lacking poise. But by then she really hadn't had the energy to correct herself and so the cycle continued.

Tiredly, she walked into her apartment. She was humming quietly taking advantage of the fact that, no matter how fucked up her the rest of her body was, her voice was better than ever when suddenly, vertigo struck again. Grabbing hold of the back of the couch, she tried to steady herself. The room spun causing the Marilyn DVD cases she had left on the coffee table to blur together, doubling and quadrupling themselves. It was as if there were dozens of Marilyn's staring back at her. But that wasn't what frightened her. The terrifying part was that, for a fleeting moment, Ivy saw Karen's features pasted across the floating faces.

"What the hell was that?" she said out loud. As her vision began to clear, she pulled the phone off the hook and hurriedly phoned Sam while simultaneously texting Tom, telling both that she needed them. Ivy sat on her bed, breathing deeply and attempting to force her heartbeat to return to a normal pace.

Tom arrived first, bursting through the door and heading straight for her.

"Ivy. What happened?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"I don't know. I was practicing..." He gave her a look. She was supposed to be on complete vocal rest.

"And then... I think I hallucinated or something."Ivy told him.

"Well, what did you see?"

"I'm not sure. But it was really weird. There was Marilyn... but it was Karen." She felt foolish now that she realized how insane this all sounded but Tom looked genuinely worried. He was about to open his mouth to speak when they heard another voice.

"Sounds like anxiety and insomnia to me." It was Sam.

"Sam." said Tom, sounding slightly annoyed. In her panic, she'd forgotten that the two didn't really get along.

"Yeah. She called me too. I came right over." Sam replied, eyeing Tom suspiciously.

"Come on." he said, pulling her by her arm.

"Let's get you to bed." Reluctantly, she allowed them to take her to her room and tuck her in. Tom and Sam continued to fight over the seriousness of her situation but it didn't really bother Ivy. She was just glad to have the company. Being alone was more frightening than anything either of them could pull. Eventually, the two men reached some kind of tense agreement, deciding to put their differences aside to take care of her. It struck Ivy how lucky she was to have them around.

"Do you want me to call Derek?" Sam asked, as Tom smoothed down her hair.

"No! No, it's fine." she told him, more forcefully than she'd intended to. He hadn't come yesterday, why would he come today?

"You guys are the best." She could see Tom knew there was more to it than that but he decided to let it slide.

"Where's your TV?" Sam said, looking around.

"It's over there." she answered, pointing vaguely to the other side of the room. She hadn't cleaned it in a while and it was littered with clothes and Marilyn memorabilia. Tom brightened at this comment.

"Why? You wanna watch a movie?" he asked, putting on a Scarlett O'Hara accent and flipping his hair dramatically.

"What do you have? Are we sick of Marilyn?" Tom held up yet another DVD, the cover featuring the infamous blonde.

"Actually," began Sam.

"There's a ranger's game on." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah. What's a ranger?" asked Tom innocently. She and Sam exchanged looks, both holding back laughter.

"I'm going to go make you some tea." Sam told her, creeping away, barely containing himself. Tom crawled over to her, a look of amusement passing across his face.

"Where did you find him?" he whispered. Sam's head appeared from around the corner.

"I'm like three feet away."

"Sorry. But you are the absolute last person I'd expect this diva to hang out with." Tom said, prodding her with his finger. It **was** surprising that she and Sam were as close as they were. Ivy was like Tom, she ate, slept and breathed theatre. Sam loved the stage as well but he had much broader interests. He certainly wasn't your stereotypical broadway chorus boy.

"How did you guys meet anyway?" Tom asked. She realized that they were both looking at her.

"We did Chicago together. It was my first job after The Door On The Right. We were both newbies and we just hit it off. You know how close casts can get." she told him quickly. There was more to the story but she'd rather not share it with Tom. He still didn't know who her mother was.

In reality, Ivy had encountered a lot of animosity when she'd first started working. Nineteen years old and she'd been offered a job before she was halfway to getting a diploma. In a way, she'd almost been like Karen. Never quite so idiotically innocent, but green and very, very young. She'd jumped straight into the ensemble, surpassing people who had been auditioning for years. And those people had friends in the show, friends who made it their personal mission to make Ivy's life a living hell. People who had made Bobby and Jessica look like fucking saints.

Somehow they'd found out who Ivy's mom was and soon enough, a malicious rumour spread through the production, involving Leigh sleeping with the producer. With that she'd been collectively shunned. It had been like some horrible high school drama. Ivy remembered sitting in her dressing room after the show, trying to tack some pictures up, when Sam had taken pity on her. He was fairly new as well but he'd assimilated easily. Sam Strickland had always had the uncanny ability to fly under the radar when he wanted to. Ivy _Conroy _did not have that luxury.

He'd called out a simple hello, but Ivy, who been thirsting for a real conversation for weeks, nearly pounced on him in happiness.

"You alright?" he'd asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Sure, I guess. I mean, I'll get over it." she'd replied.

"It can't be easy."

"What?"

"Having a famous mom." he'd told her.

"It's not so bad. I got to see a lot of shows when I was younger. One time Mandy Patinkin showed up for dinner. I almost had a heart attack." she'd told him, faking a brilliant smile and changing the topic. They went on to have a long conversation about broadway and theatre, arguing about which Cole Porter show was better, Anything Goes or Can-Can, and whether or not Rosie O'Donnell made a good Tony host. They'd only stopped when one of the custodians told them he was locking up and they needed to leave. Ivy remembered walking down the stairs on the way to the subway, surprising herself by telling Sam about how much she wanted to make it without her mom. To prove that she was a star, not just the daughter of one. And Sam had turned to her and said

"You know, if you really don't want people to know who you are, you could change your name."

And that was how Ivy Lindsay Conroy had began Ivy Lynn. She and Sam had been friends ever since.

Sam must have been feeling sentimental too because he came over and enveloped her in a hug before running off to get her the promised tea, leaving her curled up next to the musician, one of his arms thrown around her shoulder, the other clutching his phone. As they lay there, it produced another ping revealing a message from "John."

"Are you coming back?"

Ivy suddenly remembered that Tom had been at his boyfriend's party tonight. She felt awful for interrupting his evening.

"Oh my god Tom, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot that you were on a date." she told him.

"It was cocktail party," he explained.

"With his friends." Oh dear, Tom hanging out with a bunch of lawyers. She couldn't imagine he'd had much fun and his expression did nothing but confirm her suspicion.

"It sounds hideous."

"It was actually. His decor is upscale minimalist." he told her, his face breaking into a small smile.

"Blech."

"I know." he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"But it's going well, right?" Tom was slow to commit and she couldn't remember that last time he'd been in a long term relationship. She wanted him to be happy and if this guy did it for him then who cared what his furniture looked like. But Tom didn't respond.

"Tom?"

"Yep." he replied unconvincingly.

"Tom. There's a reason you're not an actor." she said, giving him a sideways glance.

"I just don't know what's wrong with me." Tom whispered, looking away.

"This guy... he's great. He's sweet, funny, charming, willing to deal with me. But I can't get into it." She nodded. Sometimes feelings didn't make sense. God, she still liked Derek despite the way he'd been treating her for the past couple weeks.

Before she could summon up any advice, Sam returned with a mug full of chamomile tea. Sipping it, she snuggled in between her two friends and a few minutes later, drifted off into some much needed sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Words cannot describe how much I disliked what they did to Ivy in the finale. Suffice to say, I will not be going there with this story.**

**Chapter 22**

Ivy stared at the sheet music in front of her, the words swimming slightly. Derek had just announced that Julia had finally finished "History Is Made At Night," and that they were going to run it with the new lyrics. And he'd given her and Michael a sum total of five minutes to commit them to memory. Normally, she would probably be up to the task but at present she couldn't focus. When Derek called that they were starting she and Michael both claimed they were fine but she could tell that he too was unsure of what he was saying.

From the moment they started, she knew they were off. It wasn't woefully bad but neither of them were able to concentrate on their characters because they were so busy attempting to remember words. And Michael didn't seem to be making eye contact with her, constantly staring off at the artistic team, as if he were playing to an audience, one she was fairly sure was composed only of Julia. They were about halfway through when it happened. The couch was spinning, making Ivy extremely dizzy. When she stood up, her heel caught in the couch and she toppled, Michael landed _directly on top of her._ What she might have found awkward before was funny under the influence of the prednisone and everyone started giggling quietly once it was obvious that they both uninjured. Everyone but Derek.

"Oh for goodness sakes, is it too much to ask for a moment of professionalism?" he yelled, looking directly at her.

"Sorry." she murmured. She'd learned that it was best just to apologize and move on when Derek was in director mode.

"Sorry doesn't help me. I need something that vaguely resembles sex. So could we try that today with our Marilyn please." Calling her for not being sexy enough? That was novel considering what they'd been doing together less than a week prior.

"I can do sex." she told him, not even bothering to mask her annoyance.

"Then I'd like to see it." This subtext of this conversation seemed far too personal for the rehearsal room and his criticism seemed to come from left field. If there was one thing Ivy had always been comfortable with, it was the sex.

"Oh and I'd love it if you were singing at the same time. Let's take it from the bridge please." Ivy was furious. She couldn't understand what she had possibly done to deserve any of this. Michael was equally to blame in this situation. He had been even more distracted then she was but Derek made everything her fault and she was sick and tired of it. She didn't know whether it was the prednisone talking but she just couldn't handle it anymore.

"While we're stopped I have a thought." Suddenly everyone's eyes were on her. But it was too late to back down now.

"Maybe you can give me notes without publicly humiliating me at the same time. Oh and maybe you could remember that artists are not football players who can take endless abuse and still do their jobs." Derek didn't even look fazed. He was still flipping through the pages of his script, marking things down.

"Let's take a ten." Eileen suggested, trying to diffuse the mounting tension.

"Really Derek, we should have given them more time with the lyrics." Julia added. Was that what they thought this was about?

"I don't need more time with the lyrics. I need to stop sleeping with men who are complete narcissistic pricks." Making her grand exit, Ivy whipped her head around and looked him straight in the eye.

"Oh, and you're not that good looking. And you're not that good in bed either." she yelled as she slammed the door. She enjoyed the audible gasps and giggles she heard as she left. Maybe that would teach him a little something about the mortification she had to endure daily.

But as Ivy ran down the hall, the full weight of what she had just done came crashing forth upon her. That stunt could cost her her job. It certainly did not make her look professional and only served to prove that she was just as unstable as Marilyn had been. Besides, she had all but destroyed any chance of salvaging her 'relationship' with Derek. She hated herself for it but this was a large part of the reason her eyes were now brimming with tears. No matter how awfully he treated her, she couldn't seem to shake him.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching. Her eyes darted to the right and she spotted Tom. It made her a little happier, knowing that no matter what, Tom would always be on her side.

"You alright?" he asked her.

"Mhmm..." she replied, trying to appear strong. Once she acknowledged she wasn't going to have a complete mental breakdown, Tom immediately began smiling. She laughed as he mimed bowing down to her. Of course, Tom still hated Derek so she was probably his personal hero right now. She hugged Tom before sending him off to do damage control. Less than five minutes later people began filtering out. She hadn't really disrupted rehearsal, it was almost 5:30 by now and everyone was ready to go home anyway. Ivy didn't bother hiding from the ensemble members as they headed out. They would know better than to try to talk to her when she was in this state.

Soon even the production team had gone home.

Ivy crept back into the studio collected her things before flopping down on the black leather sofa they used in lieu of a bed. It was quite peaceful here, she realized, when you weren't being screamed at. The view was breathtaking as well, the hustle and bustle of the big apple visible through the giant windows. She was so taken in by the scenery, she didn't notice the footfalls of some re-entering the room.

When she finally turned back around, she was met with the hesitant face of Derek Wills.

They looked at each other in silence, each trying to figure out exactly how to go about starting this conversation.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, the question carrying a weight it hadn't before.

"I could ask you the same thing." she quipped. She couldn't imagine the egotistical director had enjoyed her commentary about his sexual performance.

"Doesn't answer my question," he deflected.

"The truth?"

"The truth." he confirmed.

"No, I'm not not okay. You've been emotionally abusing me for the past month, and I can't figure out for the life of me what I've done wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong Ivy." he replied, exasperated and worn out.

"I must have. Because one second you were being a normal director and the next you were publicly using me as your own personal punching bag." she told him, voice raised slightly.

"Look Ivy. I know that I should have been a bit more understanding today with the new lyrics."

"Derek, its been going on for weeks. Remember storming out after Let's Be Bad? Remember that little stunt you pulled with Karen Cartwright?"

"You weren't getting the vibrato right." he said, looking angry now.

"Then you should have spoken to Tom, not told me to get singing lessons from the Corn Queen in front of the whole cast!" Derek opened his mouth to say something but soon closed it again. They both knew that she was right.

"I apologize for that. It was out of line. But honestly, you cannot expect me to treat you any differently than I would any other leading lady just because..."

"I don't." she yelled.

"You do." he said, his own voice raised as well.

"Ivy. I am a director. As a species, we are generally highly dysfunctional and always difficult to please. You've been at this for ten years now. You cannot possibly tell me that I am the harshest one you've ever encountered."

Now it was Ivy's turn to be speechless. She realized that he was at least partially right. Her intimacy with Derek had clouded her ability to judge his behaviour objectively. Yes, a few things he'd done had been unnecessarily cruel but it wasn't the worst abuse she'd ever taken from someone in the theatre. At least Derek had been gracious enough to give her the decision of whether or not she wanted to sleep with him. There had certainly been times where it was bluntly stated that sex was her ticket to the job.

"No. You're not." she admitted quietly.

"When we step into this studio, the only relationship we have is on a purely creative level. When I am working, we are not involved." Ivy understood this. In fact, she had accepted it the moment she'd allowed him to kiss her. What she couldn't comprehend was the shift in their personal life.

"I get that Derek. I can deal with the blunt notes and you ignoring me in here. What I can't take is the public humiliation and complete disregard for my feelings."

"My job would be much easier, if just for once, everyone could just pretend not to have those pesky feelings." he muttered under his breath. Ivy scoffed. He had some pretty delusional ideas about theatre, if he thought putting a large group of actors together would result in a purely professional environment.

"Theatre is about feelings!" she told him.

"Yes, but those feelings need to about Marilyn! I cannot allow outside emotions to affect what goes on in here. It jeopardizes the entire production if we aren't able to leave our personal shit outside that door." he replied harshly, walking away and situating himself on the _table_ nearby, huffing rather loudly. He looked particularly bothered now but Ivy noticed that it no longer seemed to be directed at her.

And suddenly it dawned on Ivy why he had been so angry lately. It struck her that the change in Derek had occurred right here. When he'd kissed her that morning before rehearsal, they'd been in the studio, both playing their parts of director and star. Julia and Eileen had nearly walked in on them for heaven's sake! No wonder he was pissed. He'd unintentionally mixed work with play and let himself get too close. It was a complete breach of his rules and now he was directing his fury at her for being the one to make him do it. Ivy almost smiled at the thought. Darth Derek had broken one of his commandments on her behalf.

"Derek," she said softly, cautiously stepping towards him.

"We are human beings, not robots. We're entitled to make one mistake." She sat down next to him, putting her hand on his knee.

"It's okay to feel emotions." she whispered, leaning in to look him directly in the eyes. For once, they didn't look so cold and invulnerable. That spark was back. He turned his head toward her. For a second, she thought he might kiss her but instead he silently placed his and on top of hers. Then he patted it twice, got up and left.

When he was gone, Ivy's face broke into the first real smile she'd had in weeks. They were going to be fine.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Ivy was in a complete and utter panic. In less than 48 hours she would be performing Marilyn for a room filled to the brim with investors, casting agents, directors, producers, and most importantly, her mother. She frantically moved about her apartment, cleaning things up and trying to make the tiny little home look halfway presentable. Leigh was set to arrive in less than an hour and Ivy knew that she was itching to find something wrong with her daughter's lifestyle. Ivy was determined to make it as difficult as possible. She'd taken great measures to hide anything that had to do with Marilyn.

Fifteen minutes later, Ivy decided that this was as good as it would get and took a seat on her couch, which creaked under her weight. Beyond caring about her cheap furniture, she breathed deeply and tried to enjoy what she was sure would be her last moments of peace before all hell broke loose.

And then she heard knocking. Leigh was early. _Of course she was._

Ivy sighed but got up to answer the door, pausing to fix a brilliant smile onto her face, before swinging it open.

Leigh Conroy was not an intimidating presence upon first glance. She was an inch or two shorter than Ivy, her baby doll face framed by red-brown curls. Although she was almost sixty now, she had retained an alarmingly youthful appearance. Ivy had always favored her father and possessed very few of Leigh's classically beautiful features although their similar jawline and strong cheekbones betrayed them as mother and daughter.

"Ivy, darling." her mother greeted her. To the average onlooker, she would appear sweet, happy to see her child, but Ivy knew better.

"Hi mom." she replied, bracing herself for the rapid fire insults that ensued whenever Leigh visited.

"Did you just come from rehearsal? I know things can run late when the show is in its final stages, especially when the book isn't done." Ivy didn't know how her mother had gotten this information but it was true. Julia and Derek had still been arguing over rewrites and scene changes when she left the studio a few hours ago.

"No. I've been home for a while now." she responded.

"Oh. I just assumed with you still being in your dance clothes." Ivy looked down at her apparel. She was wearing black pants and a form fitting blouse, an ensemble she would never wear to rehearsal. In fact, she'd dressed up a bit for her mother's arrival but of course, that all went unnoticed by Leigh, who was wearing a tight black dress. It would be a fashion don't on most women her age, but Leigh had always been extraordinarily slim, something she loved to rub in her daughter's face.

"How was your trip?" Ivy asked, hoping to direct the conversation back to Leigh.

"Awful. It's impossible to get in here during rush hour. And this neighborhood, Ivy. I don't feel safe, a woman walking alone." Ivy gritted her teeth and forced herself to continue smiling.

"Yes, well, New York can be a dangerous place."

"It wasn't when I lived here. Honestly, I think the whole place has gone downhill since your father and I moved out." Deciding it would probably be best not to respond to that, Ivy took her mother's bags and shuffled off to her room to drop them off.

"Where are you going with my things, sweetie?" Leigh called after her.

"My room." she replied. She could see her mother's expression darken as she realized that she would be sharing a bed with Ivy. But it quickly bounced back to its original splendor.

_She's probably figured out that this just means more time to torment me_ Ivy thought cynically.

When she returned, she saw Leigh had already uncovered her stash of Marilyn DVDs, which she'd placed in one of her kitchen drawers. Holding out a copy of The Misfits, Leigh told her that they were going to watch it. Quality mother-daughter time was what she called it.

"Derek told me to stop watching those this close to the workshop, in case I start copying her too much." Ivy told her honestly. The director had been giving her slightly more leeway in terms of Marilyn's character but he had stood firmly on this.

"Oh nonsense." Leigh exclaimed.

"I'm sure he wouldn't object to you skimming through it with your mother." Ivy released yet another sigh, guiding her mother to her bedroom. There was no use arguing with Leigh. Years of social events and once-a-week family dinners had taught her that it was best just to sit down and shut up when it came to her mother.

"Alright, mom. Give me a second to put it in." She grabbed the case from her mother and slipped it into the player, praying that it would work. A awkward silence ensued as they waited for the movie to begin.

"So how is it going with this "fearsome" director?" Leigh asked. Ivy cursed herself for bringing up his name.

"Fine." she replied.

"Just fine?" Leigh continued.

"What? Do you want me to give you the dirty details?" she quipped sarcastically.

"Ivy!" her mother cried, faking shock at Ivy's blunt response.

"We're still together if that's what you mean." Ivy was pretty sure that was true. They hadn't really had time to talk outside of rehearsal this week but their conversation after she'd snapped at him made her optimistic.

"Well, that's good."

"Yes." Ivy replied. One word answers were good. They gave Leigh minimal material to work with.

"And how about the show? I heard you were having some problems with your voice."

Well, wasn't Leigh just the fountain of knowledge this evening. How the hell had she gotten all these details?

"Yes. But it's okay now."

"Really?" Leigh seemed almost disappointed by this news.

"Yep."

"Well, there's something to be said for tea and vocal rest." Was her mother actually going to give her a way out and not bring up the prednisone that they both knew she was taking?

"Or are you on something?" Ivy knew it was too good to be true.

"Prednisone." she replied blandly.

"Oh Ivy, darling." Leigh began, tossing her hair dramatically.

"You shouldn't be taking those. You know what medication does to you."

"It's just for a week. I'll be fine."

"You poor thing. All that stress and now drugs." Leigh threw her hands up in the air, as though it was meth Ivy was taking and not a vocal steroid.

"I'll be fine." Ivy repeated herself through gritted teeth.

"Please just drop it Mom."

"No need to get snarky, darling. I'm just trying to help. I know it can't be easy. Your first lead and all." Leigh trilled happily.

"And sleeping with the man you're working for, sometimes things get murky." And now they were back on Derek.

"Of course, the benefits are usually worth it. He's a _very_ important director." Even her mother thought she was sleeping with Derek for the part. _Wonderful_.

"I am not talking about this with you." Leigh moved to respond but luckily, the menu had already popped up and Ivy was able to avoid further questioning by pressing play.

This was going to be a long week.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The elevator seemed to be crawling up at a snail's pace.

Ivy glanced at her phone. She was already five minutes late, a serious offence in the world of theatre, especially the day before previews. But she wasn't too worried. Once everyone saw Leigh Conroy, they wouldn't remember who she was, let alone whether or not she was on time.

It had been Ivy's original intention to sneak out of the house before her mother woke up, but a particularly loud tea kettle had put the kibosh on that plan. Leigh had insisted on coming along, as Ivy knew she would, and then promptly taken nearly an hour to get ready. A cab ride later and Ivy was contemplating murder-suicide.

Leigh stood across from her, humming happily; she had gotten what she wanted. She had that glint her eye, the one that appeared just before she put on a show. Ivy almost wanted to speak up, to tell her mother that this was her day; this was her show, but she knew she would never be able to.

Confident Ivy didn't exist when Leigh was around.

Instead, she spent the rest of the ride in silence. As they entered the studio, the expected gasps were made, the inevitable squeals uttered. Just like that, a room full of professionals became schoolchildren, speaking in whispered tones. _Is that really her?_ Leigh was soaking up the attention, a wolfish smile pasted across her face, fully aware that everyone's eyes were transfixed on her.

Well, almost everyone. Derek seemed entirely unfazed by the star's appearance. His eyes barely flickered up as the two women made their entrance. Perhaps it was because he most likely already knew about her mother's identity, but his manner felt too calculated for that. He was staring so resolutely at his notes; it almost seemed as if he was purposely avoiding looking at the larger-than-life actress. Leigh, of course, noticed this immediately and made a beeline for the only one who was impervious to her charms.

"Derek." Ivy began, formulating how best to introduce the two. But Leigh interrupted before she was able to go any further.

"Derek Wills. I worked with your father. Superb flutist." Ivy suspected this was meant to establish a connection that would get Leigh in the director's good graces but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Although Derek never dropped his steely facade, Ivy saw him flinch nearly imperceptibly at the mention of his father.

"Leigh Conroy." Her mother stuck out her hand, as if she was waiting for someone to kiss it, but Derek remained motionless.

"My mother." Ivy added quietly.

"You never told me your mother was Leigh Conroy." It occurred to Ivy that he was speaking directly to her. In fact, he had yet to recognize Leigh's presence. She almost smiled at this.

"Well, she is." Leigh interrupted again.

"But Ivy doesn't like people to know about me. She wants to make it on her own." The statement was punctuated with loud laughter, as if the absurdity of this idea was absolutely hysterical to Leigh.

"Sorry for being late Derek." Ivy said, changing the subject as she moved to drop her bags.

"It's my fault." Leigh announced.

"I took too long to get ready. You know I don't just fall out of bed looking like this." she added, turning to face the ensemble and gesturing to her impeccable hair and makeup, earning her some giggles from the awestruck ensemble. Now that she had broken the barrier and acknowledged them, they all moved in, moths to a flame.

"I saw you in Gypsy at the Rose Theatre when I was twelve. It's what made me want to be an actress." This was Jessica, whose eyes were alight with excitement.

"Ms. Conroy, you have been such an inspiration." Julia said, her face almost as red as her hair.

Everyone murmured in agreement, each sharing their own special story of how Leigh Conroy had astounded them, changed their lives. Leigh dumped her bags on Ivy, freeing up her hands for shaking, autographs or even the hug that Bobby requested. They were all so engrossed, no one so much as turned their head when Ivy slipped away from the group. She leaned against the mirror, still clutching her mother's belongings. This was everything she'd been dreading.

Whenever Leigh was around, she had a way of sucking all the air out of room. She possessed something impossible to describe, an intangibility Ivy wished she had inherited. Leigh believed she was great and therefore she was. For a moment Ivy debated leaving, going home where she could wallow in self-pity. But she knew she wouldn't do it, couldn't if she tried.

Suddenly, the huddle surrounding her mother dispersed. Was it over? Ivy couldn't help but get her hopes up. But as Tom sat down at the piano, she realized what was going to happen. Leigh was going to sing, she never missed the opportunity to showcase her golden pipes. The opening chords to Gypsy filled the room, followed by Leigh's voice, and Ivy felt as though she might puke. _Everything's Coming Up Roses._ She almost had to laugh at the on-the-nose song choice. A overbearing mother upstaging her talentless daughter. Fitting. It was all Ivy could do to keep what she hoped appeared to be a neutral expression. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them back. She wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction.

When the song finished, everyone rushed up to Leigh, clapping wildly. Figuring that they would be there awhile, Ivy took a seat on a nearby set piece, looking on as her mother accepted the applause. There was no hesitation, no moment where Leigh looked at her daughter, the invisible child skirting the star's shadows, and realized the mess she'd made. Leigh was far too self-centred for that. Ivy had learned this lesson painfully well. And yet, she coveted her mother's praise. Perhaps more so because it was so non-existent.

She was watching the little scene so intently, she didn't notice Derek until he was sitting next to her, much closer than was probably appropriate but she didn't mind.

"So, are we good?"

"Fine." She understood the awful treatment now, and while she didn't condone it, she needed something to latch onto right now. Someone to be on her side.

"Listen, Ivy." he said, looking her directly in the eyes.

"I know I don't say this enough but you are terrific in this show and you are going to be brilliant tomorrow." And, while there was no real way to tell with Derek, Ivy got the feeling he was being honest and it meant the world to Ivy. For all his faults, Derek had known exactly what she needed to hear. She reached over and squeezed his hand unable to put her appreciation into words.

He continued to align himself with her all day, giving her notes in a more gentle fashion and glancing her way, making sure she was alright. Ivy found this behaviour extremely odd, especially considering how often she messed up. It was sweltering hot and she was overtired and sweaty, a combination that wasn't exactly conducive to playing a sex symbol. She couldn't concentrate knowing that Leigh was right there, drinking it all in, gathering information that she could use to undermine her daughter.

The show itself seemed to falling apart as well. Julia, upon seeing Michael's family, had bolted out the door and not returned, much to the chagrin of Derek, who was still pushing for book changes. He seemed to have unloaded most of his wrath on Tom, who was equally angry at him. It was in the midst of one of their screaming matches that Linda called lunch, effectively stopping the fight. But still, the tension in the air was palpable. No one really knew what was going to happen tomorrow.

Ivy had resigned herself to sifting through her script, staring at the lyrics until they lost all meaning. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Leigh regaling the ensemble with tales of her youth; her life as a leading lady. Ivy sighed, everyone was falling for Leigh, even Karen, who had probably never even heard of her mother. Except for Derek it seemed. He was making his way over carrying her things. Without a word, he sat down beside her, opening her purse and tossing her salad to her. Then, he produced from his own bag a sandwich and began munching on it, his script in his lap. It was a small gesture but it made Ivy feel better. She shuffled closer to him until they were shoulder to shoulder. And they sat like that in a comfortable silence, each consumed by their own thoughts.

Over the next half hour, her closest friends began to surround her. First Tom and then Sam.

Nobody spoke. But the act of solidarity gave Ivy a much needed confidence boost. Who cared about Leigh Conroy? She had created her own little makeshift family right here.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Ivy sat on the window ledge, legs swinging, the heels of her LaDuca's just barely scraping the floor. The room that had been filled to the brim only hours earlier was now completely deserted. The investors had left shortly after the workshop had finished, eager to depart the still uncomfortably warm room, Eileen trailing not far behind. Tom was off somewhere with his lawyer boyfriend. Julia had bolted in an attempt to avoid Michael, who had looked decidedly unhappy considering the solid performance he'd just given. Everyone else had gone out for post-show drinks. They'd invited Ivy of course, but she'd declined. Somehow she wasn't in a celebratory mood.

And so she was alone, left to her own devices. The studio seemed almost pathetic now. The fans that, in the chaos of the day, no one had thought to turn on the overheated audience. The couch she'd nearly fallen off of. Without the splendor of the occasion, the little set pieces just looked sad. The rose-tinted glasses were gone and she could see the show for what it was now.

She could see herself for what she was.

Realistically, Ivy had always known she was a long shot. A complete nobody in a production of this scale? She'd been kidding herself. But Tom had been so sweet, the cast so supportive she'd believed it. She'd thought maybe she could be Marilyn. The workshop had dispelled any such thoughts. She'd seen it in the audience's faces, seen it when Eileen snuck into the corner to talk to Joe Machota. It had always been her part to lose.

It wasn't that the workshop had been bad. In fact, it had been quite good. A few tiny trip ups here and there and one ruined monologue when the air conditioner finally decided to kick in, but that hadn't been the problem. With the all star team of Derek Wills, Julia Houston, Tom Levitt and the newly single Eileen Rand people had been expecting great things. Instead, they were given a lukewarm production with a lukewarm star. They hadn't been ready. Not by a long shot. Even with Derek's warning that the book was very much a sketch, there hadn't been enough substance, not enough grit.

But that was beyond Ivy's immediate concern. This had been Ivy's chance to make an impression, to show these "top dogs" that she was someone to watch out for and she'd blown it, not projecting even half of her usual brilliance.

It was nerves, the prednisone, her mother. At least that's what she kept telling herself, placing the blame on outside sources, trying to ignore the voice in the back of her mind telling her maybe it wasn't the show, maybe it was just her not being good enough.

She'd given a serviceable performance. Serviceable performances did not make stars. And Marilyn needed a star. Unquestionably.

Ivy was roused from her musings by the unmistakeable sounds of stiletto heels clacking on the floor.

_Leigh. _

Her mother had walked in late, calling enough attention to herself that Derek had been forced to introduce her, not that she really required an introduction. Ivy knew by now the press would have put two and two together and she'd be LEIGH CONROY'S KID forever, might as well just get it tattooed across her forehead. Ten years of work undone in ten seconds.

In stark contrast to her daughter's evident distress, Leigh Conroy looked as though she were on top of the world. Upon seeing her daughter she trilled happily

"Oh Ivy. I just loved it. The music, the direction and that boy who played Joe DiMaggio! What a voice." It wasn't clear whether or not Leigh had actually enjoyed the production or if she was merely painting a stronger portrait of Ivy's inadequacy. Either way, Leigh had skipped over one crucial detail. Before she could stop herself, the question had already escaped Ivy's lips.

"What about me?"

"Well..." Leigh began. Silence hung in the hair, crushing the last of Ivy's hopes. Leigh would never change.

"Forget it." Ivy said, walking away from her mother. She wasn't going to do this to herself.

Leigh made no move to stop her. She just allowed her daughter to leave.

And that hurt Ivy more than any words could. Because the woman just didn't care. Didn't care about anyone but herself. Everything she did was self serving, a ploy to get make herself feel better. She hadn't come to the show for Ivy, she'd come because she wanted to be the star again. At the end of the day, Ivy was little more than collateral damage to Leigh.

The opposite of love wasn't hatred, it was indifference. And Leigh Conroy was indifferent to Ivy Lynn.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

By the time she reached the bathroom, she had given up on holding it together. Once the tears started flowing they didn't stop. She stayed there for nearly an hour, sobbing. She wept for her mother, for the show, for herself, for Marilyn. An outpouring of emotions that had brewing beneath the surface for months, years even.

When she was finally able to compose herself, she unlocked the stall door and came face to face with her own image. She looked awful. Her hair, so carefully coiffed by Jessica this morning was tangled and frizzy. Her eyes were red and bleary, the remains of her stage makeup had run down her face. Her dress was lopsided and stained with black from when she'd used it to wipe away her tears. Pitiful. Ivy went to the sink and washed her face, rearranging her hair and clothes so that they looked halfway presentable. Looking at her reflection she realized how long it had been since she'd last worn no makeup. Without it, she appeared years younger. Her eyes seemed bluer, her chalk white skin dusted with a few freckles. Almost innocent looking.

Departing the bathroom, she went to the studio, needing to grab her bags before she took her leave. She wasn't surprised to see that Leigh had left, she'd almost come to terms with it now. Leigh Conroy was never going to be the mother Ivy wanted. There was a certain inner peace that came with the knowledge.

Ivy spun around slowly, committing every detail to memory. She wanted to savour this moment, _Because_ she thought with a melancholic happiness _Even if I'm was out of a job tomorrow, today I was __the lead_.

For all Ivy's jaded cynicism, this was how she was. Borderline masochistic. The theatre could throw her down all it wanted, she would always come running back, ready to embrace the pain for the joy it brought her.

_She knew the way the game was played yet she still fell into every trap._

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Ivy saw the outline of a person. She whirled around, suddenly feeling very self conscious of her un-made up face, to see Derek standing there. Ivy crossed her arms across her chest. She was under the microscope again, being scrutinized by the director. But as she studied his countenance further, she noticed it suggested approval more than anything.

Moving closer, he said very plainly.

"That was Norma Jean."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I just wanted to give everyone who continues to read this story a big thank you, especially my reviewers. :)**

**Chapter 26**

"That was Norma Jean." The words hung in the air; very simple, very blunt. Very Derek.

It was almost laughable. The irony of finally catching the elusive counterpart just as Marilyn herself was slipping through her fingers.

Ivy realized it probably didn't matter now, no one cared if you understood the character if you weren't actually playing the part, and yet she still felt some kind of warped accomplishment. Not just for getting Norma Jean, but for the survival it had taken to do so. A series unfortunate events, reaching back long before she had so much as known who Marilyn Monroe was, had left the broken chorus girl without a mask to cover up the cracks. A lifelong lead-up to the discovery of a person she might not even get to play.

Norma Jean had come with a high price. The question was: _Had it been worth it?_

She was almost scared to admit she thought the answer might be yes.

Choosing to distract herself from this revelation, Ivy turned to face the director, a tired smile on her lips.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." was his evasive response.

"Why aren't you with Eileen?" It would make sense for him to have gone along. Investors would have been interested in meeting him. He was the director after all.

"Why aren't you out with the ensemble?" he countered, ducking her questions again. Ivy didn't push it. Something in his eyes told her that the real story went deeper than he would be willing to divulge.

"I wasn't in the mood." she replied, trying to sound cheerful.

"I just want to go home and sleep. It's been a long day." she added after he made no move to respond. She then excused herself, too weary to keep up the charade. He wouldn't buy it anyway. Pushing past Derek, she was nearly out the door by the time she felt his hand on her arm.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked. Ivy was surprised, to say the least. Even before the whole _table_ incident, he had never been one for romantic dinners. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, but nodded acceptance. She followed as he headed towards the elevator, working hard to keep pace with Derek who walking so fast he was nearly jogging. Ivy wondered if she might be making a mistake but she quickly shook the thought off. Nothing could be worse than spending the night skulking around her apartment, desperately trying to avoid Leigh.

Within fifteen minutes, the two were seated at a table in the back of a little bistro a couple blocks from the studio, each sipping a glass of cheap wine. Ivy been relieved when Derek had agreed to her choice of restaurant. She'd suspected he was used to slightly swankier venues, but with her apparel in the state that it was in, not to mention her wallet, she wasn't really prepared for anything fancier.

The waiter, Louis, who was obviously an actor, came around to their table with exceptional speed, breathlessly asking them what they wanted to eat. They ordered, Derek settling on fish and chips and Ivy a Chicken Caesar salad. Louis collected the menus, his hands shaking. As he was stepping back he knocked Derek on the shoulder.

"Sorry Mr. Wills!" he exclaimed, a look of terror passing over his face before he scurried away, silently cursing himself. Ivy almost laughed.

"Is that how people treat you all the time?" she asked.

"Pretty much. Yes." he replied, his hands clasping each other uncomfortably now that the menu was gone. Something was off about him tonight; he seemed very nervous. They lapsed into another bout of silence, each consumed by their own thoughts. Glancing at the clock situated just across from her, Ivy realized that reviews would be coming out soon. It was nearly eight now, she wouldn't be surprised if there weren't a couple already circulating. The internet would be abuzz with chatter of Marilyn, of Derek, _of Leigh_. Ivy shuddered at the thought. She leaned back in her chair, no longer interested in what the critics had to say.

But Derek had already pulled out his phone and was scrolling intently and Ivy knew she would know her fate within minutes. Deciding she'd rather find out herself, she pulled out her own cell and hesitantly typed "Marilyn: The Musical" into the search browser. Immediately, several results came up.

"_The New Houston-Levitt Show A Flop?"_

"_Rand Not Ready To Produce Alone"_

"_Marilyn Confused"_

It was worse than she thought. Her stomach churning, she forced her self to click the first link. A gossip blog; accurate but not known for its tact. Scanning through the page, she picked out Julia's name. Her book had been cited several times as a problem. Tom's music was deemed fun, but lacking substance. Derek had mostly been left alone, the article saying he had done a fair job.

And there it was in black and white.

_Some new broadway trivia. Tony award winner Leigh Conroy made an appearance today. Turns out, the show's lead, Ivy Lynn, is actually her daughter. Who knew?_

Ivy sighed heavily. Against all logic, she had hoped that somehow this information wouldn't get out. But now it was public knowledge and she'd never escape her mother's shadow, no matter how big she made it.

She continued to look at various websites for the next ten minutes. Most of them hadn't mentioned her much, if at all, concentrating more on the actual show and less on the actors bringing it to life. Theoretically, that was better than an outright pan, but it didn't feel like it to Ivy. She wanted to be acknowledged.

Her wish was soon granted, but in the worst possible way.

_The show does have some promise. Derek Wills has come up with some terrific staging but it doesn't match what Houston and Levitt have written. If Marilyn can figure out what it wants to be, it could be great. Although we do wonder how Eileen Rand plans to get this to broadway without a name in the title role. Are they planning to use Ivy Lynn's broadway connection, her mother, Leigh Conroy, to sell some tickets?_

Ivy's biggest drawback, beyond the less than fantastic performance this afternoon, had always been her anonymity. She'd chosen to keep it that way in order to avoid the stigma that came with being a broadway legacy but now the cat was out of the bag and it was her decision whether or not to exploit it. A year ago it would have been an impossibility. But that was before she'd gotten a taste of what it was like to be the star. Before Marilyn. It was odd, but she had formed some kind of bond with the blonde legend. It physically hurt Ivy to think of anyone else playing this role. And yet, she wasn't sure she was willing to cross that line. Leigh Conroy's smug face flashed in her mind.

_Couldn't make it on your own?_

She really didn't know what to do. Frustrated, she slammed her phone onto the table, wincing as a small crack appeared on the casing.

"I take it you've read the reviews then." Derek's response caught Ivy off guard. She'd all but forgotten he was there. Nodding, she chugged the remainder of her wine.

"They could have been worse." she replied weakly. This earned her a dramatic eye roll from Derek.

"They were awful." he retorted. But his tone lacked its usual snark. In fact, Derek looked troubled. She realized, with some amazement, that he was probably just as upset as her. It was his show too.

"Julia got the most of it." she said, not quite sure how to deal with an even semi-emotional Derek, certainly not a Derek who, for once in his life, might be feeling a little insecure.

"As she should. That book was a mess." Ivy gave Derek a look at this. No matter how justifiable the comment, Julia was a friend.

"I hear she's been going through some personal stuff lately." Ivy remarked.

"You mean Michael Swift?" She wasn't surprised he'd figured this out. Derek was increasingly observant, especially when it came to the show.

"How did you figure it out?" she asked.

"I'm not blind. The two of them were fighting like bloody teenagers when you were stuck in the elevator. You'd think she'd keep her infidelity more discrete."

"Either way, she was having a hard time." Ivy said, trying to steer the topic back to the show.

"You seemed to handle it fine."

"What do you mean?"

"A relationship with someone involved in the show." The characterization of their interactions as a relationship was not lost on Ivy.

"I don't know how true that is. I did call you lousy in bed in front of the entire cast." she joked nervously.

"Yes, well you were a diva on steroids, so I didn't take it too personally."

"That was a lie. Just so you know." His mouth formed a small smile.

"I assumed."

"Well, that's cocky, isn't it?" She didn't realize how suggestive it sounded until she said it out loud. She could feel herself blushing as he laughed.

"I've never denied being an egomaniac." he told her lightly.

"And I've never denied being a diva." she added, earning her another chuckle. The conversation had brightened significantly but she couldn't shake the feeling of a ticking time bomb.

"What do you think's going to happen?" she asked, easing her way into the discussion they were both aware was inevitable.

"I don't know. I doubt Eileen will drop it. Not with the time and money she's put in." he answered, seemingly nonchalant.

"It needs work." she added quietly. He scoffed.

"That's an understatement. The show needs a completely new book, along with something resembling a plot before we even start thinking about creative decisions." He was a director now, full of artistic visions, his posture straightened and his eyes alive and intense.

"We have a meeting tomorrow to discuss the show." he continued, looking as though he wasn't at all excited at this prospect.

"What are you going to tell them?" she asked, hoping that he might drop a hint at where they stood in regards to the cast.

"I'm going to tell them what they already know. The show is too cutesy and happy. It needs to be edgier to work and..." His tirade was cut short by the arrival of their meals. Neither had eaten since breakfast so talk of Marilyn Monroe was stalled in favour of food. For the next several minutes, their exchanges were limited to "pass the salt" and the occasional murmur of enjoyment. Soon the dishes were being cleared away and the topic of Leigh still hadn't been breached.

For some reason unbeknownst to Ivy, he seemed to be purposely avoiding this particular confrontation, which was unusual because in this situation anything they talked about would be purely professional. Director Derek was quite comfortable with sharing his feelings, it was Derek the would-be boyfriend who was a little harder to get through to. But he seemed to be split down the middle in this environment and she wasn't sure which one she should appeal to.

Ivy drew a deep breath in and took the plunge. As much as she was dreading it, she knew it had to be said if she wanted to have a fighting chance at keeping her job.

"How about the cast?" Not the most subtle of approaches but by now she'd had three glasses of wine and it would get the job done. He made of noise of annoyance.

"Julia and Tom are conspiring to get Michael Swift fired because apparently no one on this show has any professionalism besides me." This news set Ivy's teeth on edge. She had been sure Michael was a lock. Despite having yet to hit it big he was already fairly established as a leading man and his number today had been well received by the audience. The fact that his removal had more to do with personal misconduct barely registered in Ivy's mind. If Michael was gone, no one was safe, least of all her.

"What about Marilyn?" she asked, deciding to be straight with him. Derek sighed loudly, staring at the opposing wall and refusing to meet her gaze.

"Eileen is leaning towards a star." It was one of the rare times where Ivy was grateful for Derek's tendency towards brutal honesty. Perhaps it was shock, but Ivy didn't panic. Instead, she calmly accepted the fact and made a split second decision.

"Will using my mother make any difference?" the words came out of her mouth steadily, her voice detached from her body. In her head, her younger self was screaming at her, telling her not to do it. But she swiftly silenced prattle. What did naive, newbie Ivy know about life? This was what she had to do. If it meant realizing her dream, she could learn to deal with it, or at least that's what she kept telling herself.

Derek seemed taken aback by her question. But he quickly composed himself.

"Maybe. It would be a marketing technique that Eileen might go for..." She cut him off.

"Then do it. Tell them they can use her if they want." He nodded, but still looked dubious.

"Ivy, are you sure about this?" She wasn't. Even now she wanted to take it back.

"Absolutely."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

It was the message that tipped her off.

_Ivy. This is Tom. Can you come to the theatre please? We need to talk about Marilyn._

His tone had been too somber, his words too formal for it to be anything else. Leigh hadn't been enough. Ivy hadn't been enough. And now she was going to get fired. Climbing down the stairs of the Shubert theatre, she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run, to live in willful denial for just a few more hours. But she carried on, a feeling of deep dread winding its way through her stomach. Facing Tom give it all a sense of finality. There were no second chances in show business.

She saw Tom before he saw her. He was perched on top of a table, his arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed deeply.

"Ivy. Thanks for meeting me here." he said, as he noticed her on the landing, trying to make his voice cheerful and failing miserably.

"Tom. It's okay." she said. Tom's obvious distress actually made it easier on her. She could pretend to be strong for him.

"Eileen wanted to go with a star." he blurted out. It wasn't a surprise but the words hurt just the same.

"I know."

"You were wonderful. You **are** wonderful. It's just to get this thing to broadway..."

"You need a star." she finished, almost mechanically. He nodded, tears welling up in his eyes.

"You're the understudy of course." he told her. She knew it was meant to be her consolation prize, some little reward for all her hard work, but it felt more like a stab in the gut. A taste of what she could have been if only she had been better.

"And you can come back to Heaven On Earth whenever you're ready." he continued on, laying out what meagre offerings he could.

"Ivy. I am so sorry. If it had been my choice... I mean, I wrote the part for ... but Eileen." The rest of the sentence disintegrated into unintelligible babble. Ivy cut him off by reaching over and pulling him into a tight hug. He was really a tremendous friend.

"Tom, it's okay. I'll be okay." The last thing she wanted was for Tom to guilt himself over something she knew wasn't his fault. If Eileen had had fixated on the cast, there was nothing he, or anyone, could have done about it. Once he released her, she quickly grabbed her things and moved to depart. There was nothing left to say and in all honesty, she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold herself together.

She waited until she was out of Tom's sight to let the tears fall.

When she returned to her apartment, she found it blessedly empty. Leigh had left, with an uncharacteristic lack of flamboyance, the night of the workshop. Ivy didn't know whether or not Derek had vacated the premises with the knowledge that she was about to get fired, or if it had just been a happy coincidence. Either way she was glad he wasn't here. He'd taken to coming to her place more and more lately, staying over every night for the past week. She'd found this odd considering how dingy her home was in comparison to his, but she wasn't complaining. It was nice having someone else around, even someone as distant as Derek had been recently.

Ivy shed her coat and bag before heading to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of vodka. If anyone deserved a drink right now, it was her.

A few hours later, she lay on her bed, feeling absolutely pathetic. The realities of losing her job had sunk in. She had drunk herself to the point of tipsiness and was now staring mindlessly at the pictures of Marilyn that adorned her mirror. She hadn't been able to bring herself to take them down. It was unhealthy and she reveled in it, letting the images of the icon taunt her.

_No one wants you. _

She was contemplating how torturous it would be to watch a Marilyn movie when she heard knocking.

"Go away!" she yelled, not getting up from her bed. But the person was persistent and the sound only intensified.

"I mean it. Go away!" Once it became evident that the visitor would not take no for an answer, she forced herself up and swung the door open angrily. It was Derek.

"Are you alright?" Ivy almost wanted to ask him the same question. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair had reached new levels of messiness and his skin was paler than her own. He was swaying a little and his breath smelled of alcohol. Concern passed over Ivy's features but it was soon replaced with annoyance.

"Look Derek, I really don't feel like talking right now." she told him.

"That's understandable." he replied but he remained where he was. They stood there staring at each other for the longest time, engaged in a silent battle. But Derek was resolute. Ivy had feeling she could have slammed the door in his face and he wouldn't have left. It was touching, in it's own warped way. In the end it was her who gave in, moving to allow him to enter. He followed her to the kitchen table and they sat down across from each other.

"So what movie star are they bringing in?" she asked sardonically.

"They don't know yet." Derek answered honestly, not taking the bait.

"What about Kate Winslet, maybe Charlize Theron?" she added bitingly, trying to get a rise out of him. She wanted, needed, someone to fight with right now.

"Or what if we got Leigh Conroy to do it? Wouldn't that be fun?" she continued. He'd been ambivalent so far, but this got a reaction. He flinched slightly at the mention of her mother's name, as if it was his own parent she was denouncing.

"Can you just imagine the headlines? Award Winning Mother Succeeds Loser Daughter." Her voice was getting louder now.

"Ivy, you're not a loser." he told her quietly.

"But I am. I worked my ass off for that part. I read every book, saw every movie and I still got fired by a creative team that includes two of my closest friends and the guy I'm fucking. I had everything in my favor and I lost it." She hadn't meant to say this much, but the alcohol in her system was starting to take effect.

"Ivy."

"Tom said he wrote the part for me." She was being petty now but she didn't care.

"Ivy." Derek interrupted once again, irritation now evident on his face.

"And I still didn't get it. If that doesn't make me a loser, I don't know what..."

"IVY." She was startled out of her slightly drunken rant by the sheer power of his voice.

"Stop throwing yourself a pity-party and listen to me." he said, returning to his normal volume now that he'd got her attention.

"You were good as Marilyn. Bloody fantastic at times. But you know just as well as I do, that the part doesn't always go to the best actress, it goes to the biggest name."

"I'm Leigh Conroy's daughter!" she started, her eyes flashing with fury. She didn't need to be told by the rich and famous director that the rich and famous star would always win out over the veteran chorus girl. She'd been living that lesson for the past ten years.

And she saw something in him snap. Her comment had not been meant to be incendiary but for some reason, it seemed to effect Derek more than anything else she'd said tonight.

"I didn't tell them they could use your mother!" Ivy saw surprise registering in his eyes. He hadn't meant to reveal that little tidbit of information.

"May I ask why?" she questioned coldly.

"Because I knew it wasn't what you really wanted." That was true. Over the past few days she had been tearing herself apart over her decision to use Leigh as a publicity tool. But she wasn't about to admit that to him.

"And who are you to decide what I want Derek?" she said, her tone icy. He had no right to make career altering choices for her.

"Look, it wouldn't have made a difference anyway."

"How do you know?" she retorted childishly.

"Ivy. Could you have lived with yourself if you knew the only reason why you got the part was because of your mother? Would you ever really been happy if every single thing you did for the rest of your life was done under the shadow of being Leigh Conroy's kid?" But he wasn't talking about her anymore. She could see it in the way his face contorted with an anger too poignant to be second hand. They were silent for a moment. There it was, hanging in the air once again. She knew he had familial issues but he never talked about it. She had long since accepted it as one of the many topics she and Derek didn't discuss. He himself, seemed astonished that he'd mentioned it. Confused and a little vulnerable, he almost resembled a deer in headlights.

"No. I would have been miserable." she finally said, after a long pause. He made no move to respond.

"My mom would never have let me forget it. She'd have loved being able to tell me that she'd started my career." Still nothing. Well, an eye for an eye, right? Ivy took a deep breath. She generally avoided the topic of her family just as fervently as he was avoiding his. And although he knew quite a lot about her past, this would be their first serious conversation regarding Ivy's relationship with her mother.

"I only matter to her when I'm failing." she continued, offering a wry smile.

"Because she's scared you're going to be better than her." he said softly. Ivy was visibly shocked. Not only because he had finally spoken but because of what he had said. Somehow, Ivy had never entertained the thought that her overbearing, narcissistic mother was capable of jealously.

"And what about you?"

"I think you are better than her." he replied, quick to compliment if it meant steering the conversation back to her.

Ivy bit her lip. He would never change. Derek was constantly on guard, never sharing anything, leading you to believe that you knew all you needed to know. He was a series of titles: a fearsome director, a charming date and a fantastic lover but beyond that he was just a man.

And there was a moment where you realized you knew nothing about the face behind the mask.

"Derek." He looked at her.

"This isn't going to work if you keep doing this." She couldn't handle yet another one way relationship. Getting up, she started to walk away but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. He sighed.

"When I went to my apartment today my father was there." The words came out robotically but they were there just the same.

Ivy had never been so surprised in her life.

"And what does that mean for you?" she questioned tentatively.

"I don't know." And in that moment, Ivy saw a side of Derek that she hadn't been aware existed. Gone was the face of the tyrant she'd come to know. Before her sat a person, one who might be just as fucked up as she was.

She smiled. They'd finally reached equal ground.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Ivy lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling, a smirk painted across her face. To her right sat a half naked Derek, his eyes fixed on the set design resting on his lap. He had brought it over from his place that evening, along with an "overnight bag" that was really more of a suitcase. He'd arrived at her door, carting his script, which by now had reached near encyclopedic proportions, a miniature model of a stage and a few changes of clothing. She had been stunned to see the considerable baggage, but he'd handled it quite nonchalantly. A wordless conversation had passed between the two. Derek would be staying at her house for the next couple days.

She hadn't questioned it. By all measures it was fine by her. She'd been quite lonely without the show, feeling the loss of both its members and the constant work involved in playing a leading part. Derek would be a welcome distraction. She hadn't allowed herself to think what this might mean for their relationship. It was obvious he was here to escape his father. Ivy was just a convenient host. Although the whole situation posed an important question: What had his dad done to deserve this?

Derek had provided no explanation. He'd merely followed her to her room where she'd helped him unpack.

That had been nearly two hours ago and she'd all but given up on getting any further information out of the aloof director. He was working now, something he rarely did at her place and Ivy decided to take advantage of the entire show being at her fingertips. She turned to face Derek, who's face had twisted into one of his patented expressions of extreme frustration. Sitting up, she moved to rest her chin on his shoulder so that the little model was within her eye line.

"What's the problem?" she asked quietly.

"I can't keep Marilyn visible during this part of the dance sequence." he replied, gesturing to the tiny red figure that was being obscured by the white ones that represented the ensemble. The dancers were lined up in two rows, leaving only one pathway right down the middle. She noted, with a smile, that he'd responded almost immediately, comfortable with sharing his worries even if they were only show related.

"Why don't you have her go over the ensemble?" He gave her a quizzical look.

"Cut the dance sequence and have them lift her to the front. Like this." she clarified, using her fingers to indicate a walking motion over the statues.

"That could actually work."

"Don't sound so surprised." she chastened, laughing slightly.

"I took theatre design class in high school. And my mom used to take me to rehearsals when I was really young." Realizing she'd mentioned her mother, Ivy quickly decided to change the subject.

"But I don't see why you need to change anything, Rebecca Duvall is like six feet tall. You'd be able to see her over most of the boys anyway." she added, poking fun at her successors fallacious casting. Rebecca Duvall was an action film actress, who lacked both Marilyn's grace and body type. Plus, Ivy had noted somewhat cruelly when Bobby, gossip monger that he was, had told her about her replacement, Rebecca was several years too old for the part.

But Derek didn't seem to notice her snarky comment. He was acting very peculiar, his eyes flickering back and forth, nearly imperceptibly, between her and the set. Ivy realized, with a start, that he'd been thinking of her as Marilyn. Rebecca and Karen were both rather statuesque. She was the only one petite enough to not be seen in the crowd. It was simultaneously flattering and heartbreaking. A ray of hope she'd been too late to catch.

He composed himself quickly.

"I want her to stand out." he said but his tone lacked conviction. They both knew what had just happened.

Before the conversation could become more awkward, the sound of her phone playing the opening chords of "That Old Black Magic" disturbed them both. It was lying on the floor next to Derek's side of the bed. He bent over and picked it up.

"Who's Jimmy?" he asked, almost suspiciously, as he passed it to her.

"My brother." she explained.

"I didn't know you had siblings." he replied.

"We're actually twins." she added quietly. She watched as his eyes widened in surprise. Very few people knew about Jimmy.

"We're not particularly close." she said, closing the topic. In truth, Ivy's relationship with her brother was a lot better than with her mom. She got along alright but he had always been the golden child and she couldn't help resenting him for it. Even with his complete lack of ambition and declining career, he managed to spark more affection in Leigh than Ivy had ever been able to. She glanced down at the screen.

_I'm sorry to hear about your show._

It was a little late but sweet nonetheless. After typing a quick thanks back, she proceeded to send a few needless messages to Dennis and Jessica, so as to avoid any further questioning by Derek. But thirty seconds later and he was still staring at her.

"My..." he started, but trailed off. She tried to ignore his twitching, electing to shuffle around some of the sheet music that covered the bed instead. Finally selecting Let's Be Bad, one of her favorite numbers, she began memorizing the ensemble line. She'd been taking classes to get back into the swing of things, trying to look on the bright side, but it was all inevitably a little bittersweet. A minute later and Derek's voice stirred her from sight reading the harmonies.

"Ivy. I forgot my address book on the kitchen table." He didn't ask but she went anyway, happy for the chance to stretch her legs. Spying the little black book, she grabbed it before starting back to the bedroom. But as she walked, something fell out of the pages. She bent down to pick it up. As she got closer, she realized it was a photograph. Upon further inspection, she realized the images itself was probably fairly old though the actual picture was in pristine condition. It featured a woman, probably around her age, sporting a head full of curly brown hair and a purple dress. She looked a bit like a taller version of Leigh, although she was hugging a child in the photo, something Ivy's mother wasn't wont to do. Flipping the Polaroid over, she found an inscription.

_Lilian and Derek. Birthday party. September 1, 1984._

Now she felt as though she were intruding. This was Derek's personal life and it wasn't her business to pry. Yet, she could resist looking at it just one more time, this time concentrating on the little boy. He couldn't be more than ten or twelve years old. He was thin and tall, but his blue jeans and t-shirt made him look distinctly boyish. It was his face that really caught her eye. There was a sadness there, a brokenness that certainly didn't belong on a child so young.

Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the other side of the room. The almost inaudible footfalls of someone who was attempting not to be noticed. Ivy was hesitant to turn around, knowing full well it could only be one person. A person who would likely not take well to her poking around his things. Derek had positioned himself across the room, leaning on the kitchen counter, looking surprisingly impassive. As if he had anticipated such an event and had moderated his expression accordingly.

He'd left it there on purpose. Wanted her to see it. Call it gut instinct but she knew it was true. _I forgot my address book._ He'd made the conscious decision to send her to get it, knowing what she'd find. An kind of half-involuntary retribution that evened the playing field, letting her know him as well as he had come to know her without the pesky annoyance of actually having to speak. For such a hostile director, Derek was remarkably passive aggressive when it came to his personal life.

Ivy padded across the floor, book and photo in hand. She wanted to say something, thank him perhaps, but she swiftly decided against it. Better to ignore it, pretend it hadn't happened. Derek was not one for sentimentality. He preferred to be thought of as the puppet master, in control and untouchable. Nevertheless, his Machiavellian disposition didn't stop her from intertwining her fingers with his and pulling him towards the bedroom. They were both exceptionally verbose individuals but somehow, they understood each other best when stripped down to impulses, where minds and manipulations didn't come into play.

People lied. Bodies didn't.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The return to rehearsals was largely bittersweet for Ivy.

She was eager to return to the studio, the theatre was what Ivy lived for, her bread and wine. The two week interlude had been good for her, a much needed vacation, but one that was forced on her, not taken voluntarily. There had been classes of course, Ivy was determined to keep herself in top form, but it wasn't the same. The sense of unity you felt when a number finally came together, the satisfaction in nailing a chord, that was something unique to each production and it had been sorely missed during the brief hiatus.

Not to say that she hadn't enjoyed the little break, she had. Derek was near constantly at her place, venturing home only a handful of times, usually to grab a change of clothes or a forgotten Marilyn book. They'd go their separate ways during the day. Derek to meetings with the creative team or a potential investor; Ivy to seminars or the occasional matinee but their evenings were more often than not, spent together. The two would often stay up late into the night, discussing the show or Marilyn. Sometimes they would just talk about life. Ivy would vent after a bad audition, Derek would complain about the lack of anything substantial in the scripts he was reading. If you squinted, they could almost pass for a normal couple. But then again, from a far enough distance, everyone looked normal.

The matter of his family was still up in the air. He hadn't mentioned seeing his father again and she hadn't asked. From time to time he would "accidentally" give her another clue, but these moments were sporadic and the information was often rather trivial. Still, Ivy felt a certain pride in knowing that Derek's mother had hated mustard on her hamburgers. It wasn't the words that were important, it was that Derek was saying them.

It had been fun, if uneventful, but Ivy would have been ecstatic to be back to work, if not for the looming figure of Rebecca Duvall.

Movies stars were always the biggest threats to theatre actors, such as herself. They carried a box office clout that Ivy couldn't dream of possessing, one that was very attractive to investors. Not to mention that certain sense of celebrity. However unsuitable Rebecca Duvall might be to the part of Marilyn, she had star quality. It was undeniable. You didn't get where she was without it.

The reality of coming face to face with her replacement was terrifying. The slight possibility that she might bring something new to the role. That, god forbid, she might be better than Ivy, scared her half to death.

But she had to enter the room at some point and now was as good a time as ever. As Ivy pushed open the door, she was greeted with the sounds of an early morning rehearsal. That is to say, a lot of grumbling about the early hour accompanied by the occasional crack of someone's bones as they swung their leg over their head. But today there was also a murmur of anticipation.

Ivy tried to ignore it, dropping her stuff off and joining Jessica and Dennis at the ballet bar.

"Ivy!" chirped Jessica, abandoning her stretches to throw her arms around Ivy, pulling her into a tight hug. She was overcompensating but Ivy didn't mind. It had been weeks, since she and Jessica had really got a chance to talk. Towards the end, Marilyn had pretty much taken over her life and she hadn't had much time to socialize with her friends. But it seemed she would be welcomed back with open arms.

_Once a chorus kid, always a chorus kid. _Right now the positive connotations of the statement outweighed the negative. She returned the embrace with equal fervor, squealing happily about how great it was to see them again.

Ivy was engaged in a conversation with Josh, asking him a few questions about the choreography for the opening of Let's Be Bad, when it happened.

A hush fell over the crowded room, people stopped in their tracks. It was almost comical, a tableau entitled _She's coming._

When the door finally swung open, everyone had returned to their former positions, chattering, dancing, doing anything but looking at the people who had just entered. This was, after all, New York. New Yorkers would never admit to being starstruck. Only Karen, still as midwestern as ever, remained googly eyed as Rebecca walked into the room.

Ivy herself had gone back to going over the combination, but she kept one eyed trained on the group.

Rebecca Duvall looked every inch the movie star she was. Her tall form was covered in a red trench-coat, her eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than Ivy's entire closet. She stood up straight, an air of superiority surrounding her. Perhaps she was biased, but Ivy immediately disliked the woman.

"Alright everyone." Derek called out, giving them all permission to acknowledge the presence of their new Marilyn.

"As you all know, this is Rebecca Duvall. You will have time to meet her later. Right now, we are getting straight to work." he said, immediately setting his bags down, leaving no room for argument. Rebecca looked slightly annoyed that she hadn't been given a star entrance. Ivy smirked. Working with Derek Wills, she wouldn't know what hit her.

"We're going to start with Let Me Be Your Star." Larry, the pianist nodded and began to play the beginning chords, as Rebecca stripped off her jacket and assembled herself behind him.

As she sang, Ivy watched as the production team's faces morphed into expressions of abject horror. Rebecca had taken the powerhouse opening number and transformed it into a bad Johnny Cash song. She spoke the words at first, then, noticing the thinly veiled looks of displeasure, attempted to actually sing, resulting in a succession of impressively off key notes. It wasn't long before Derek spoke up.

"Okay. I think we've heard enough of that. Let's take ten, shall we?" He quickly evacuated the room, pulling a gobsmacked Tom and Julia after him. Eileen followed a few feet behind. Rebecca, who somehow seemed as confident as ever departed with her assistants, muttering something about getting a smoothie.

When she finally exited, it was as though everyone in the room let out a collective breath. Bobby, Jessica and Dennis all but sprinted over to her, glee written all over their faces.

"It'll be yours within the week." Dennis said.

"Derek looked like he was going to have an aneurysm." Bobby added, laughing so hard he was shaking.

"How did she get cast before they heard her sing?" asked Jessica.

"Come on guys. She's not that bad." This was Sam, ever the voice of reason.

"Yes, she is. I haven't heard a note that flat since Laura Bell at Virgin." said Bobby, tossing his hair dramatically to further emphasize the point.

"Bobby!" cried Dennis, who'd done Legally Blonde with Laura.

"What? It's true." the catty chorus boy replied, proceeding to do a spot on imitation of Rebecca, until even Sam had to crack a smile.

Rebecca's complete inability to keep on pitch both irritated and pleased Ivy. There was a certain sting to being replaced by someone who so obviously lacked the qualities necessary to preform on stage, but there was also the knowledge that Rebecca posed no threat to Ivy in terms of technical ability. But then again, neither had Karen and look how close that had been.

"Well I think she's great." Speak of the devil. The Iowan had managed to sneak her way into the little group without Ivy noticing.

"Are you crazy?" Bobby said, cocking one eyebrow at the girl.

"I mean she's not the best singer but she's beautiful and famous and I wish I had her life." Something about this comment really rubbed Ivy the wrong way. She was about to respond with a snarky quip, but a look from Sam had her thinking twice. Sighing, Ivy bit her tongue. Might as well try to get along with Iowa. It seemed that most of the ensemble had taken a shine to her. Besides, what was the old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

A minute later and the creative staff entered once again. Tom, Julia and Derek all looked equally upset. Only Eileen had managed to escape the meeting with a smile, although it looked rather forced. Linda called them back as soon as Rebecca returned, nearly five minutes after the allotted ten minute break was over. Derek, who's face was ruddy with discontentment, called out the plan for the remainder of the morning.

"We're going to begin with some of the scenes from Act two when Marilyn goes to the Actors Studio. If you are not needed for those, please go with Josh to run History Is Made At Night." Slowly, people began filtering out of the room, tossing not-so-subtle looks at Rebecca as they walked past. Ivy latched onto Sam's arm and was about to follow when Derek shook his head.

"Not you Ivy." She turned around, sending him a look of confusion. Understudies were normally not rehearsed until previews began, she wasn't sure what he could need her for now. Seeing her perplexity, he walked over and added, in a low tone.

"It's going to be too difficult to work you into that number so you might as well just stay here and watch." She understood what he meant. Now that Rebecca had proven to be a dud, she stood a chance at getting Marilyn back. But only if she kept up with the material. This was merely his convenient way of helping her along. Not that she really needed it, but she appreciated the gesture. She nodded.

"Sure. That's fine."

"Great." he responded vaguely, his hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her towards an inconspicuous chair in the corner, far enough away that her presence would not distract Rebecca. But the woman already seemed put off, her eyes trained on the two as they moved across the room. The expression on her face betrayed a rancor that made Ivy nervous. She immediately removed herself from Derek's grasp and made the decision to keep her identity as the understudy a secret.

"Alright Rebecca, do you know these pages yet?" Derek asked gruffly, passing her a handful of papers.

"I think so." she answered with a wink. But Derek hardly noticed, his gaze fixed on the script before him.

"Peter, from the top." he called, referring to the older gentlemen they'd brought in to play Lee Strasberg.

"Next." said Peter, now in character, pointing an index finger at Rebecca who, following the stage directions with puzzlement evident on her face, went and sat down on the stool placed at the front of the room.

"I'm Marilyn Monroe." she intoned, making her voice breathy to the point where it was difficult to understand what she was saying.

"And I'm so thankful to be here." The accent got stronger as she continued, now making a sweeping gesture with her arms.

"How can you be thankful before you know that I can teach you anything?" Peter replied, his eyebrows raised as he watched Rebecca crane her neck out until it looked almost detached from the rest of her body.

"Stop. Rebecca what are you doing with your head?" Derek asked.

"What do you mean?" the woman responded coquettishly.

"I mean that you look like a bloody ostrich." he returned. Rebecca looked visibly shocked. No doubt, she wasn't used to being talked to in such a harsh manner.

"I thought that's the way you theatre people did it. Big and broad." she retorted, throwing her hands into the air to illustrate her point.

"Yes, well there is a difference between playing to the balcony and making a spectacle of yourself." He was especially crabby today.

"Again."

"Next." repeated Peter.

"I'm Marilyn Monroe." Derek made a noise of aggravation.

"Dial down the voice please. It's too much." Rebecca nodded and continued.

"And I'm so thankful to be here." Peter's line and then hers. They got through nearly a minute without incident.

"It's just I feel a little dumb is all. You're all so talented." Rebecca made a 180 degree turn to face the invisible group at the back of the room.

"Rebecca. You can't look straight upstage. The audience won't see or hear you." She repeated the line, this time looking straight forward.

"Oh for heavens sake. Ivy!"

"Yes?" she replied quietly.

"Go sit in the back so that Rebecca has something to look at." She obeyed, dragging a chair to upstage left, so that if Marilyn turned to face her, she would still be three quarters toward the audience. This was all common sense to Ivy, but it confused Rebecca, who had clearly never done theatre before and she ended up looking the wrong way.

"It's not that difficult." Derek muttered, frustrated. Rebecca looked like she were about to cry. She was out of her element and her director certainly wasn't making it any easier.

"Ivy, do something to make sure she turns to right way. A noise, a signal, anything." he said, rubbing his temples as he met her eyes. She gave him a pointed look. Not only was the command unnecessarily patronizing but it was also the fastest way to get her into the star's bad books. He reciprocated with an expression that made it clear he didn't care. This silent exchange did not go unnoticed by Rebecca who immediately spoke.

"Again." she remarked sarcastically, more of a statement than a question. Derek looked away from Ivy and nodded.

The next time they ran through it, Ivy tapped the heel of her shoe lightly against the floor at a volume that was loud enough for Rebecca to hear but low enough that it wouldn't be picked up by a body mic. The movie star glared at Ivy as she delivered the line, hating that she was being babied by a chorus girl. Ivy wondered if this was how Karen felt when Derek had told her to sing Happy Birthday.

Eventually, Rebecca did get it right. But it was another excruciatingly long hour before it happened. First, Rebecca had been told to reign it in but she'd taken the note to such an extreme that they spent the next fifteen minutes getting her to a level where any facial expression was visible onstage. When they were finally dismissed, the woman made a point of snubbing Ivy, the witness to her humiliation. But as they both got up, they accidentally looked straight at each other and Ivy saw a mixture of emotions playing in Rebecca's baby blues. Shame, insecurity, anger; feelings that weren't unfamiliar to Ivy and stirred up a bit of empathy in the former Marilyn. But then her adversary's eyes narrowed, sending a simple message.

_Don't fuck with me._

Oh, how the tables had turned.

**A/N: It has just come to my attention that the way I've been describing Ivy's house isn't what has been shown on Smash. I've gone back and changed a few things so that it makes more sense. Sorry about that. For the purposes of this story, this is what her apartment looks like:**

** i1071. photobucket./ albums/ u511/ idbeinthefollies1/ Screenshot2012-06-30at11758PM. png **

**(Delete Spaces)**

**Thanks for reading everyone. **


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The next few days passed in a haze of jazz hands and greasepaint. Marilyn, or Bombshell as it had recently been christened, was taking over her life once again and she had no objections.

Perhaps it should have been exhausting, the effort required to learn an entire ensemble track while keeping up with Marilyn was immense, but it didn't bother Ivy. She was more determined than ever to be ready should she ever need to go on. It was a quiet campaign, of course. The last thing she needed was the movie star out for her blood. But Ivy had already begun positioning herself to, and she relished the irony, eventually succeed her successor.

It wasn't an unattended crusade either. Yesterday, under the pretence of helping her with harmonies, Tom had managed to smuggle to her the sheet music to the new song, Dig Deep, one of the many numbers that Rebecca routinely butchered in rehearsal. It was a shade underhanded on both their parts, but what was the theatre if not dramatic?

Derek played a part as well, although he was more inclined to subtly than Tom.

Rumors had circulated about Rebecca threatening to leave the show following her first rehearsal with Derek. While they had never been confirmed Derek **had** been far more compliant as of late, limiting his criticisms to eye rolling, or the occasional sarcastic remark muttered under his breath. He'd not asked her to sit in on another rehearsal either. She suspected Eileen had spoken to him.

As he was forbidden from undermining the star in rehearsals, he had turned to their current living situation. They'd never labelled what they did as coaching sessions but, if not for the fact that sex was often interspersed, the title wouldn't have been inaccurate. He'd pretend he didn't notice when she peered over his shoulder to look at the new pages and if he so happened to hear her rehearsing, he might make a comment or two. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, she reasoned, at the end of the day, conversations about Marilyn's character benefitted them both. And if helping him block the show meant that she knew the entire thing cold, well, she wasn't about to complain.

Today they'd been dismissed a half hour early. As much as it infuriated Ivy, Rebecca's movie premiere somehow took precedence over getting the show on its feet. She'd been invited, along with the rest of the cast and crew, but she'd elected not to go. Instead she'd stayed behind to see if she could persuade Larry to play a few numbers for her but he had disappeared with everyone else. Not willing to give up so easily, she'd ended up going to the smaller studio and plunking her way through most of the score alone.

It was nearly seven when she finally thought to check the time. Ivy quickly packed up her belongings and got ready to head out. The locked the doors at seven thirty and, as much as she loved the rehearsal hall, she wasn't really in the mood to spend the night. She was halfway to the elevator when she heard raised voices coming from the main room. Looking around, Ivy cautiously opened the door, just enough so she could see in.

"Well, someone had to have leaked it." said Eileen, waving around a tablet, featuring a video of Rebecca singing. Even from this distance, she recognized the tuneless warbling. Occasionally, the video would pan across the creative team's faces, their expressions ranging from disbelief to actual pain.

"It's scaring off investors." Eileen continued. This didn't surprise Ivy. The clip displayed Rebecca's lack of ability, but it also showcased the incompetence of the four professionals involved. People were asking how Rebecca had managed to worm her way into a broadway musical with a voice like that? Derek, never one to take the blame, scoffed loudly.

"Of course it is, she's absolutely horrific. We might get a million or so in advance sales but once people start coming to see the show we're screwed." He was sitting on the edge of the able, the lyricist, composer and producer all standing around him.

"Maybe if you actually gave her some direction then she'd improve." Tom replied tersely. In the past couple of weeks, Tom and Derek's working relationship had grown increasingly hostile. She wasn't quite sure what had spurned the change; she had been sure to keep Derek's prolonged visit a secret from Tom, but the two men had been at each other's throats all week.

"I tried." Derek retorted, sending Eileen a significant glance.

"She was going to quit Derek. What was I supposed to do?" the producer responded tiredly.

"You should have bloody well let her."

"It's not as bad as you think. She can take singing lessons before we get to Boston. And Derek, you said she was a fine actress once you got that scene working." Eileen's optimism seemed to disgust Derek who rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"Yes. But it took five times as long as it should have. She has no idea how to act for the stage."

"Well then teach her!" Julia yelled, her sunglasses on despite the fact that they were indoors, a sure sign that she was upset.

"There is absolutely no way we can back out now. She has us under contract. It would cost a fortune to fire her." Tom cut in, his voice calm. For a moment, everyone was silent, each waiting for someone else to come up with an idea.

"We could use the shadow selves. Give them some songs." Derek offered.

"And have the backup singers upstage the real Marilyn? Brilliant plan _Mr. Wills_." Tom countered loudly. Derek's eyes flash with fury, his body tensing as if he was about to hit the smaller man.

"It's an idea." Eileen interrupted, putting her hand on Derek's shoulder, attempting to pacify the director whose inexplicable anger diminished as quickly as it had emerged.

"But our main concern now is finding someone to back this. Now, I have had an offer..."

"Then what's the problem?" Derek asked crankily. Ivy watched as Eileen's face contorted with apprehension. It was an odd emotion on the older woman, whom Ivy had always admired for her poise and strength.

"It's your father." she finally announced.

Derek's face immediately blanched. Julia's eyes widened. Even Tom looked noticeably uncomfortable at the notion of Derek's father controlling their finances.

Ivy was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt. It was well within her nature to snoop, she doubted any actor, whether ensemble or lead, could honestly say otherwise but this was different. Ivy felt as though she were intruding, becoming a part of a story to which she did not belong. It would be safer not to know. Things were beginning to get more complicated than she'd anticipated, perhaps more complicated than she was equipped to deal with.

Silently, Ivy closed the door but not before she heard Eileen's last words, spoken at a volume barely above a whisper:

"He wants to come in next week."

**A/N: This chapter is little more dialogue heavy than I usually write so I would appreciate comments/reviews telling me how I did.**

**Also, if you don't already know a SMASH RP was just started on . There are only six of us right now and we're looking for more people. We're in need of a Sam and an Eileen, plus all the ensemble members and minor characters so if you're looking for something to do this summer, join us! **

**Thanks for reading. You are all wonderful. :)**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Apologies for the long time between updates. [Insert excuse about busy life and writer's block here]**

**Chapter 31**

It wasn't late, not by theatre standards. Maybe around midnight. Dancers would be milling around the streets right now, faces still half-covered in stage makeup. They'd be slipping into cafes and little restaurants, laughing and joking about whatever had gone wrong that day. Something always went wrong; an arm out of time, a hastily improvised line. Such were the joys of live theatre.

But Ivy was not among them, at least, not tonight. Instead, she was standing outside Derek's apartment, not quite sure exactly why she was there. It had been an odd evening. After departing the studio, she'd wandered aimlessly for while pondering what the arrival of Derek's father meant, both for the show and for him.

There was no denying an investor was sorely needed. Lyle's money would be running out soon. He'd only contributed enough to cover the workshop and no one was willing to ask the kid for anything more. Without sufficient funds, she wasn't sure how much longer the show could remain in rehearsal, let alone make it to broadway.

Eileen would take the offer. There was really no choice. Her time, money and reputation was riding on this production. Besides, at the end of the day, Eileen was as much of a creative soul as Julia or Tom. She cared too much about Bombshell to give up on it now, no matter the price.

Wasn't that the way it always was? In a way, both she and Derek had been right. Theatre was about feelings, it was only a matter of where they were directed. Sometimes tunnel vision was necessary, and sacrifices, however painful, had to be made.

And Derek would allow it. However flawed, hypocrisy was not among the director's faults. His anguish would manifest itself in other ways, namely running the entire company ragged but she could deal with that, enjoy it even. Ivy's main concern was on a far more personal level.

She'd called him but he hadn't responded. He had also been conspicuously absent from her apartment when she'd ventured home to change out of her rehearsal clothing. A hundred little things, insignificant on any other evening, important on this one. Logically, she knew it was paranoid, probably even clingy to show up like this but she'd been unable to shake that feeling in the pit of her stomach. If anyone understood what Derek was going through it was Ivy. Parental issues were common ground; her mother's visit less than a month before hadn't been so different, although she admitted that having your father literally finance your career was more humiliating than name dropping, especially when you were as well established as Derek.

Curiosity, concern and a glass of wine with dinner had found her here. Departing the elevator, she pushed her fingers through her hair and raised her hand to knock.

"He's not answering, I've tried."

There was silence for a moment as she located the source of the voice. There, in the far corner of the little hallway was a man, settled on the floor, a briefcase at his side. He looked to be about sixty-five, give or take a few years, wearing a navy blue suit, expensive and fitted. Very well kept if you ignored the slightly bleary eyes and the unhealthily pale skin of someone who hadn't been sleeping much lately.

Derek's father. It had to be.

Mumbling something about being on the wrong floor, she moved away quickly. What little she knew of the man had not endeared her to him.

"Ah, so I see he's told you about me then?" he said, his voice lilting with the accent of someone who had once lived abroad. Despite her better judgement, she turned around.

"Can't say the same for you I'm afraid, but considering he's barely spoken a word to me since I got here, that doesn't mean much." he continued on, now leaning against the wall, arms crossed in a way that was distinctly reminiscent of Derek. Blunt. Cynical. He seemed quite similar to his son, both in personality and appearance. Though better groomed than Derek tended to be, there was a distinct resemblance in the bone structure. Not uncanny, but enough that she would have guessed they were related.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you darling?" The sentence itself was very Derek, right down to the diminutive way he called her darling, though the words sounded condescending coming from his mouth. He reminded her of Derek, but in the same way she was often accused of evoking her mother. Shared interests and mannerisms plaguing her existence, reminding her just how easily she could become Leigh.

"Ivy." she managed to get out.

"Charles." he replied quickly. They fell into an awkward silence. He was staring at her, almost appraisingly. Ivy shifted nervously, pulling her jacket close and folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart. I don't play for your team." he intoned calmly, fiddling with his cufflinks. Ivy, however, was not so unperturbed. Derek's father was gay? Looking back, she supposed it explained a lot. His occasional borderline homophobia, the picture of his mother, perhaps even his womanizing tendencies. It was in these moments that Ivy realized just how little she knew of the enigmatic director.

"He's been avoiding me." Charles continued, his voice coloured with a sadness a little too excessive to be entirely real. He looked to her, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was calculating her reaction. She complied, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I don't blame him. I've been a terrible father." he added.

"Cheated on his mother when he was a kid and I don't think he's forgiven me yet." The five stages of grief flashing across his face in succession, all perfectly timed. She'd have imagined he was an actor if Derek hadn't already identified him as a musician. He was clearly trying to manipulate her, playing mind games much like his child was prone to do although his, being emotionally based, were decidedly crueler.

"I've been trying to reconnect with him but he continues to ignore me." Genuine frustration passed across his features before quickly morphing back to their previous melancholy.

"Perhaps you might persuade him to open the door." he finished, giving her a rueful smile, only solidifying her dislike for him. But even still, she didn't completely eliminate the idea of pushing a reconciliation along. It was really a question what would benefit Derek, and in turn, the show. If nothing else, Charles seemed sincere in wanting to see his son. It couldn't be money, not if he was offering himself up as an investor. And he'd just exploited his past idiocies for a complete stranger, no matter how insincerely delivered. That was something, wasn't it? But wanting something and being ready for it were two very different things.

"What will you say to him if I do?" she asked quietly. His mouth opened but nothing came out, finally at a loss for words. Shock was quickly followed by something akin to respect. But he quickly recovered, scooping up his briefcase, smoothing his jacket and pressing the button for the elevator.

"See you on Monday." He was gone before she could respond. Ivy slumped against the wall, overwhelmed and exhausted. A minute or two later, she heard the turning of locks and the creak of the door.

"Ivy." Derek didn't sound surprised. In fact, she was willing to bet he'd known she was out here the whole time and chose to use her as his own human shield. Or perhaps it had been a test. To see if she could withstand the influence of the great and powerful Charles Wills. It occurred to her that she should probably be angry. But she couldn't blame him. She'd pulled a similar stunt in regards to Leigh only weeks before. Anyway, it hardly matter now; she'd passed. Wasn't that the important part?

"I met your father." she said blandly. His brows furrowed slightly but abruptly returned to their natural positions, as if he'd attempted incredulity but decided against it halfway through. The difference between father and son was that Derek could read her nearly as well as she could him. He knew when he was caught.

"I know." he admitted almost apologetically.

"You know you're going to have to face him sooner or later." she told him.

"I know." he repeated, sitting down beside her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, meeting his eyes. He looked at her, holding her gaze. Thinking. Fighting. His lips parted very slightly, the tip of his tongue running across his bottom lip. Body tensed, she heard him take in a breath, about to speak.

And then he leaned over and kissed her.

She understood. It wasn't what she had hoped for, but she understood. He'd never been good with words. Derek was creative, vague, abstract. He worked with the undefinable. You got it, or you didn't. You were perfect, or you were nothing. Perhaps that was why he didn't do well with most people. People were variables, beyond his control. Beyond his vision.

But the world wasn't a show. You couldn't take characters out or change the plot just because they didn't factor into your fantasy.

He was relatively intelligent, Ivy suspected he understood this, at least to a degree. But it was easier to pretend. And make believe was best done silently. Words were realities, they grounded everything, gave them a weight. Things that Derek wasn't quite ready to admit, perhaps things he wasn't even aware he felt.

So Ivy kissed back with equal force, wrapping her arms around his neck and straddling him.

Their own version of comfort.

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Writer's block. That's all I have to say. :P**

**Chapter 32**

Ivy leaned her head against the window of the cab, the soothing sound of a dull pencil scratching over paper threatening to lull her back to sleep. Last night had been eventful in more ways than one and Ivy was in the habit of overanalyzing to the point of insomnia. She'd tossed and turned half the night trying to sort out the cluttered remnants of the previous day. It certainly didn't help that Derek had been equally restless, the impending arrival of his father to his workplace weighing heavily on his mind. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning he had managed to escape downstairs where she'd found him pouring over his script, looking for imperfections, of which there were many. Not unusual for a show still in rehearsals, but unacceptable in the eyes of the temperamental director. He'd muttered on and on about this and that; transitions that were the slightest bit off, choreography that didn't quite fit. Issues that generally wouldn't be dealt with until tech were being corrected now, sleep be damned. She'd been up at four in the morning, he even earlier.

It hadn't been a particularly productive morning. He'd rarely asked for help and, more often than not, his so-called fixes had only lead to bigger messes. Still, they'd managed to smooth out a few bumps; an on-stage costume change made possible, dance sequences revised so that Rebecca was less prominent. Enough to make him feel that something had been accomplished, to pacify him, even the slightest bit. It was manageable, at least until he pulled out History is Made at Night.

The number had never really worked. It had been among the last additions to the show before the workshop and the constant lyric changes had left them with relatively nondescript blocking. The effect was passable when Michael and Ivy did it, both with theatre backgrounds and proportionate heights. But Rebecca was taller than their new DiMaggio, Tony, and having her sit on the arm of the couch only emphasized the difference, making large sections of the song appear almost comical.

Derek had been stalling and putting it off until inspiration struck but now he seemed determined to finish the song before the day was out. Two hours and he'd barely said a word, staring at the words and biting his thumb in concentration as he continually penciled notes in, only to erase them minutes later.

"Can you do the modulation into the second chorus?" he asked, without looking up, as the driver honked noisily at a car who had just cut him off. Glancing away from the window, she yawned and nodded, singing the requested part. He'd taken to using her as his own personal CD lately. They didn't yet have a cast recording and Ivy knew the material better than anyone. A whispered thanks and the frantic writing began again. Then a sharp snap and a growl from Derek as he tried to reassemble the broken pencil. It would have been funny if he didn't look so pathetic.

"Derek, it's not going to be ready for Monday. We'll just have to use the old blocking." she told him gently, removing the pencil from his hand.

"It will be." he said, clasping his fingers around hers and looking at her, unaggressive but clearly determined. Sighing, she relinquished the usable side of the writing utensil and returned to the staring out the window. She understood where he was coming from. Hadn't she rehearsed to the point of mania in the days leading up to Leigh's arrival? As futile as his quest was, she knew she would be unable to deter him.

They arrived at the studio minutes later. Derek exited first, offering his arm for balance as she followed on her three and a half inch heels. They had barely taken a step when she heard a voice calling Derek's name. Looking over his shoulder, she saw the tall and lanky form of Rebecca making her way over to him. She immediately removed her arm as the movie star came closer, oblivious to Ivy's presence.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about the ... Oh, am I interrupting something?" Rebecca asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she noticed Ivy.

"Not at all." Derek replied, thoroughly nonplussed.

"Rebecca, this is Ivy. She's..." He trailed off, unsure of how to characterize their relationship, both professionally and personally.

"I'm in the ensemble." Ivy finished quietly, staring at her feet. Squinting slightly, Rebecca stuck out her hand. Ivy shook it awkwardly.

"I love that dress. Very Marilyn." Rebecca said, gesturing to her outfit; a blue dress, fairly low cut and cinched at the waist. It was what she'd been wearing when she'd arrived at Derek's apartment yesterday. She hadn't had time to go home for a change of clothes. It flowed well enough that she could dance although it was considerably fancier than her usual rehearsal apparel.

"Thanks." Ivy replied, wondering how something so complimentary could seem so utterly menacing.

"You played her, right?" Rebecca asked, although Ivy got the distinct impression she already knew the answer. Ivy nodded.

"I thought so. My assistant found the video online." she explained, removing her sunglasses to reveal bloodshot eyes. No doubt she'd seen the tape of her singing as well.

"That was a long time ago." Ivy offered, smiling weakly at the movie star. For a moment, Rebecca's smile faltered and she looked as if she might comment further, but she seemed to think better of it and turned to face Derek. Ivy quickly bid them farewell and excused herself, striding towards the elevator.

Once upstairs, Ivy went off in search of a pair of LaDucas. The dress might be alright but the shoes most definitely weren't.

"Jessica." she called, throwing her bag down beside the ballet barre.

"Ivy, hey! What's with the dress?" the tiny chorus girl returned, bounding up to Ivy and pulling at her skirt.

"All my clothes were in the wash." Ivy told her, but it sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears.

"You do realize that literally everyone knows about you and Derek, right?" Bobby said, peaking up behind Jessica. Ivy felt her face reddening.

"Look, I need to borrow some shoes. Does you have any?" she replied, avoiding the question. Jessica bit her lip mischievously before racing over to her bag and producing a pair of black LaDucas.

"I give them to you if you promise to give me the details." she said, tossing the footwear to Dennis, who dangled them above Ivy's head.

"Alright, alright." she agreed, laughing as Dennis placed them on her feet, bowing as he finished. She could make something up later and no one would know the difference. Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with her fun-loving friends, especially after the weighty evening she'd just had.

Derek walked in several minutes later, Rebecca following not far behind.

"This morning we're going to run the show, beginning to end, as many times as we can." he said, leaving everyone, including Linda, with expressions of surprise and occasional horror.

By lunch, the company could be divided into three categories. The tired, the exhausted and the walking dead. The sheer physical energy necessary to do a show once, let alone the three runs, back to back, that they had managed, was enough to find most of the company out of breath and clutching their feet in pain.

Derek had left soon after they had finished, clutching his binder, probably off in search of a quieter place to obsess. He'd spent most of the morning, sitting in watch, resolutely unmoving. No notes were given beyond the generic request for better extension and cleaner footwork for the dancers. There'd been no constructive criticism for Rebecca, nor, as far as Ivy could tell, any insult whispered under his breath. It seemed Derek had skipped beyond the technicals and was off in search of the magic; that moment where everything somehow landed in place, the moment where it all became art. A necessary quest to be sure, but one that could and should have waited until they had a firm grasp on the show itself.

Most of the ensemble lay stretched out on the floor, complaining loudly now that Derek was gone. But worst off was Rebecca, who had spent the past five minutes limping around the studio, dazed and confused. Ivy felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman who was so obviously out of her depth. She almost appeared to be on the verge of collapsing. Her diet of smoothies and potato chips had not prepared her for this level of exertion. Ivy scanned the studio for the movie star's entourage but they were mysteriously absent, leaving Rebecca to fend for herself. Grabbing a spare water bottle, Ivy went over to Rebecca, intending to give it to her and leave.

"Is he always like this?" Rebecca asked quietly, forcing Ivy to turn around. It was odd, not intimidating in the least. She was asking an honest question, one actress to another. Ivy nodded.

"Sometimes worse." The corners of Rebecca's mouth curved into a small but genuine smile.

"Good." Rebecca replied, closing her eyes as she slumped against the wall. The public display of insecurity disoriented Ivy. Perhaps it was the last vestiges of naivety in her, but Ivy had somehow held onto the notion that the movie star was self-possessed, confident even. But here she was, asking her predecessor whether or not she was doing well.

"One time, he walked out after I finished Let's Be Bad. No notes. He just got up and left." Ivy said, sitting down beside her.

"Really?" Rebecca asked, turning her head in Ivy's direction.

"Yeah. Don't worry about him. There's just a lot on his mind." Ivy responded, letting out a small sigh.

"I know how that feels." Rebecca quipped in between swallows of water.

"Me too."

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated. **


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

They were halfway through yet another repetition of Let's Be Bad when he sauntered in.

There was nothing particularly conspicuous about the entrance of the elder Mr. Wills; he came in silently and stood with a purposeful lack of distinction. She might have mistaken him for someone's grandfather if not for their previous meeting. Unassuming, he leaned against the wall a few feet from the production table, waiting for the rehearsal to be finished.

Derek gave his routine run of generic notes but Ivy wasn't listening. Nor was most of the ensemble who, by now, had noticed the presence of a stranger despite the director's refusal to acknowledge the unknown being. In any case, a formal introduction was not made for several minutes.

"This is Charles W-" Eileen cut herself off abruptly, silence hanging in the air as the cast waited for her to continue. Ivy watched as the producer attempted a recovery. To omit his last name entirely would only call attention after such a lengthy pause but to say it was to reveal a major secret of, not only a co-worker, but a friend.

"Charles!" It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Ivy jumped up and ran toward the man, wrapping her arms around him, much to his surprise.

"Just go with it." she whispered into his ear. He looked at her for a moment but soon began to play along, one arm reaching around her back, a smile pasted across his face.

"Ivy. Good to see you." Ivy quickly turned to a gobsmacked Eileen.

"Sorry. Friend of the family." she said apologetically.

"There will be plenty of time for catching up later." came Derek with his trademark exasperation, though Ivy could see his sky high shoulders slowly drooping, his face relaxing a bit. By establishing a connection with his father, she had effectively placed herself in the spotlight. As long as the two men kept their distance, it was unlikely anyone would recognize their relationship, physical and vocal similarities notwithstanding. At least for today.

"Anyway, he'll be watching our run after lunch." Eileen continued, making a dramatic exit, Charles on her heels. With that, a certain level of anxiety began brewing within the cast, manifesting itself most in their star. Rebecca had been doing rather well today, having done obvious work after the humiliation of the video of her singing being posted online. Notes that were usually skipped altogether were tentatively being hit, albeit with a certain amount of straining, and her dancing was slowly creeping up to a passable level. But the announcement had clearly startled her and for the rest of morning she lacked focus, constantly asking for her lines and flubbing the choreography much to the chagrin of the production team, especially Derek, who was pushing them for perfection harder than ever. It only served to aggravate Rebecca further, who, unaware of the fact that Charles was more interested in his son than Bombshell, probably thought the financial security of the production was in her rather incapable hands.

Lunch came faster than anyone would have liked. Most of the ensemble worked through the first half of lunch, cleaning messy dance breaks or iffy staging. The rest was spent gossiping about the identity of the potential investor.

"I've never seen him before." said Bobby, who sounded fairly annoyed by the fact. He prided himself on being completely in the know.

"Neither have I. But he sounded like he had an accent so maybe he's new around here." Jessica said, smoothing Bobby's hair comfortingly from her perch on his back.

"Nah. Ivy said she knew him." Dennis replied.

"Yeah. But Ivy's mom is Leigh Conroy. Andrew Lloyd Webber probably dropped in for evening tea when she was a kid." Jessica reminded him.

"I still can't believe she never told us about that." Dennis replied, with a significant decrease in volume.

"I can't believe she's still in the chorus with a family like that. If my mother was broadway royalty I would be name dropping like nobody's business." Bobby retorted loudly.

Ivy grimaced a little at their comments but correcting them would be significantly more uncomfortable so she turned back to her current companions, a madly flirting Sam and Tom. After a slightly turbulent, not to mention confusing first impression, the two had decided to put their differences aside and were slowly shaping up to be a great couple. She was happy for them of course. But she couldn't help but feel like a third wheel and was quite happy when a shadow passed into her line of vision, indicating the presence of a fourth party.

Until she realized who it was.

"Hello Charles." she greeted him, hoping that her voice sounded passably happy.

"May I speak with you?" he asked, extending his hand to help her up. Ignoring it, she cleaned up her lunch and followed him into the far corner of the room.

"I think we better get our stories straight." he said, pasting a rather fake smile onto his face.

"Okay." she replied, punctuating the statement with a giggle, as though he had just told a joke. Better that everyone think they were close. The more she seemed like the go to resource for information on him, the less likely they would be inclined to ask the production team.

"If they ask just say I worked with your mother." For a moment Ivy's facade dropped.

"How do you-" she stammered.

"I make it my business to know who my son is dating." he replied, effortlessly keeping up the charade, leaning back on his hands in a way that reeked of Derek.

"You checked up on me?" she asked, hitting him playfully on the shoulder, forcing his arms down into a more neutral position.

"Yes, I did, Ms. Monroe." Her eyes narrowed at his evident condescension.

"Well then, you know all about me. It's only fair I know something about you. Tell me, what happened between you and Lawrence Caustman?" she quirked her eyebrow inquisitively. He wasn't the only one who'd done his research. His face flashed with anger for a moment. She'd struck a nerve. But the emotion was gone as fast as it had come.

"That was one of my less successful personal ventures. Really, I only got involved with him to preserve Derek's reputation but it backfired rather unfortunately." She stared at him expectantly, waiting for further explanation.

"He was having trouble with one of his shows. He needed good reviews, he got them, but the rest of the production..." he trailed off.

"Caused quite a big blowout with your friend Tom over there." he finished, his eyes flickering to the composer. Ivy's eyes widened. That was why Tom and Derek were no longer friends? It seemed so trivial. From Tom's rantings, you'd have thought Derek killed his mother.

"Okay everyone. We're back!" Linda called out from behind the table.

"That's my cue. It was nice seeing you again." Ivy said, rather loudly, giving Charles a quick hug as she did.

"The pleasure was all mine." he returned before going off in search of Eileen. Just as he was moving to exit, Derek was entering and they bumped shoulders on the way in.

"Excuse me." she heard Derek say, the only dialogue he had exchanged with his father since, she assumed, the night she'd been fired. The exertion was palpable as he slammed his script down on the table.

"Alright people, we're going to run History is Made At Night with the new blocking and then go straight into the run." They quickly moved into their opening positions, Ivy at the side as per usual.

Soon, it became evident that they had a major problem.

"Where is Rebecca?" Derek asked, a tone that suggested barely concealed fury colouring his voice. Heads began turning back and forth. It seemed the movie star had gone missing.

"Bloody hell. I do not have time for this." he said, mostly to himself, stomping out into the hallway. The company sat in wait for a moment, only the sound of Derek repeatedly slamming the many doors breaking the silence, before Linda, always the most clear headed of all of them, got up and said

"There's no point in starting without her. Everyone take five." As the cast dispersed, the small asian woman grabbed Ivy by the arm.

"Go after him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." she told her. Leaving Derek alone with anyone in that state was a recipe for disaster, let alone a movie star with her own tendency toward dramatics. Ivy headed for the door, catching him just as the elevator door was about to close. She pressed the button for the second floor. He gave her a quizzical look.

"She can't have gotten far. I saw her a few minutes ago. My guess is that she bolted when Linda said we were starting." He nodded acceptance. Ivy knew she was right. She'd done much the same thing the morning her voice gave out.

It was when they were checking the studio when they heard it. The faint sound of running water. Rebecca was in the washroom. Which meant Ivy would be going in alone, probably a good thing given Derek's less than amused expression.

"Rebecca!" she called as she entered. The room was completely dark. Ivy flicked the lights on.

The movie star was leaned against the sink, staring at herself in the mirror, her fingers gripping the sink so hard her knuckles were white. The tap was on, she'd clearly used it to splash her face causing a slightly raccoon effect around the eyes, though the fact didn't seem to register with Rebecca. She was off in her own little world, not even acknowledging Ivy's presence.

"Rebecca." she tried again, grabbing hold of the other woman's shoulders and shaking lightly. Blinking a few times, Rebecca let out a whispered

"Yeah?"

"We're starting now." Ivy told her, turning the water off.

"Oh." She didn't move. Sighing, Ivy took it upon herself to forcibly remove Rebecca from the room. She managed to wrench the star's hands off the counter but it was proving difficult to pull someone a good foot taller than her away.

A moment or two later, Derek burst in, gender be damned. He quickly moved towards Ivy. She took a step backwards, assuming he wanted to speak to Rebecca. But his path changed with her movement and he pulled her, rather forcefully, towards him, close enough to eliminate any possibility that they weren't somehow romantically involved. Arm slung around Ivy's waist, he turned towards the stunned movie star.

"If you aren't going to do this, tell me now and I will put her in." he said, gesturing to Ivy, with almost eerie calmness, non-threatening in delivery but positively lethal in subtext.

"You know the material right?" he asked. Ivy could only nod. It wasn't a lie. She had been keeping up with Marilyn's part. Although she would have preferred that her preparedness be kept secret from Rebecca.

Of course, there was absolutely no way they could actually fire her, Rebecca's contract had been negotiated to make sure of that. Though she could walk anytime she wanted, scott free, the courtesy was not extended in reverse. But in the haze of nerves, all Rebecca heard was competition and all she saw was Ivy.

"No, no. I'm fine." Rebecca said, exiting the tiny room at a very brisk pace, glaring at Ivy all the while. The door slammed shut, leaving Ivy and Derek alone. She turned to him, mouth open, ready to give him hell for the stunt he had just pulled.

"You can yell all you like when we get home, right now we have a show to do." Ivy hadn't missed the characterization of his apartment, where she'd been staying for the past few days, as their home but she chose not to comment on it, tucking it away for a later discussion. He was right, there was work to be done.

And with that they headed back upstairs.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: I'm doing two shows right now and life is crazily chaotic but that still doesn't really give me an excuse for not updating for two months. So I'll just have to say I'm sorry and here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. **

**Chapter 34 **

If Ivy's workshop had been a failure, Rebecca's was an absolute train wreck.

It wasn't as though anyone had been expecting a miracle. Theatrical inexperience could not be overcome in a matter of weeks, especially not with the foundational level of talent Rebecca possessed. No, they had all been anticipating a strictly subpar performance.

But this was different.

Objectively, Ivy knew her bias against her successor clouded her judgement at times. If she was being perfectly honest, Rebecca wasn't a terrible actress. Once she had found the appropriate balance of volume and theatricality, she did a half decent Monroe impression. Not as meticulously accurate as Ivy's but certainly passable considering the low bar she'd set for herself on the first day. If nothing else, Ivy respected the amount of work she was putting into the show. She'd done her research, something Ivy knew celebrities weren't always wont to do. But more importantly, Rebecca exuded the charisma that Ivy apparently lacked. Years of fame had given her a powerful tool. While Ivy had to act like a star, Rebecca was one.

It was everyone's hope that her singing and dancing would improve in the coming weeks. After all, technical ability could be taught and Rebecca **had **gotten better. It was just a matter of speeding the process along. Sure, it was a gamble but you didn't get into theatre if you weren't a risk taker. Rebecca would turn out a good performance that would bring in great profit. That was the heartbreaking truth.

There was only one thing that they had failed to account for.

Stage fright.

Sipping her water, Ivy watched as Rebecca began singing. She looked positively pained, as if she'd like nothing better than to evacuate the stage at the earliest opportunity. There was none of the character work that Derek had drilled into her. There was only Rebecca, for once charmless in her utter terror, sleeping walking her way through the show as everyone looked on, either horrified or doing their very best to suppress their laughter. Rebecca, however, seemed interested in only one pair of eyes. Those of Charles Wills, a man who seemed to relish his power, his gaze settled firmly on the movie star, steely and unwavering.

Ivy glared at him, pursing her lips in displeasure. As much as she resented Rebecca, she would not wish the mocking scrutiny of her Charles on anyone, least of all someone making her first live performance. After a few moments he seemed to feel himself being watched and his eyes flickered towards her. Ivy gave him a pointed look. But instead of correcting his behaviour, he shot a wink at her, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the already witless Rebecca.

History Is Made At Night had always been one of her weaker numbers, the harmonies were strenuous, and Derek's new staging had certainly not made it any easier on her. Instead of having Marilyn seduce DiMaggio at home, he'd elected to put them under the stars. It was a good idea, highlighting the innocence and youth of the characters, but it also meant that the two leads spent the first minute or so slow dancing in front of their car, a significantly more difficult routine than the simplistic spinning furniture shtick that Derek seemed to favour.

This unpreparedness, combined with the stress of an incredibly insensitive audience was too much for Rebecca and she immediately froze, stumbling over words before going completely silent. The effect was instantaneous. The ensemble was rushing on, striking their pre-planned poses with panic in their eyes. Tom was staring at Julia who was staring at Eileen who was staring at Derek, who was staring straight ahead, looking utterly defeated, an expression Ivy had never seen on him before and found she did not like at all. Charles, on the other hand, seemed to find the whole situation more entertaining than anything, leaning back on his hands and smiling like a cat who got the cream.

After what seemed like an eon, Tony managed to gather his bearings well enough to take over Rebecca's part, although the lyrics made little sense coming from DiMaggio. Eventually Rebecca joined back in, putting on an almost maniacal grin as her eyes flitted back and forth, trying in vain to regain her composure. Realistically, it had only been a few seconds, but the incident left the cast shaken, energy sapped and illusion shattered. While there were no more major mistakes, the remainder of the show was unabashedly bad, in an entirely intangible but undeniable way.

When they finally finished the show, the company banded together, Rebecca excluded, at the back of the room, commiserating over the awful performance. Observations were being tossed back and forth, about Charles, about Derek, but mostly about Rebecca, who had fled the room as soon as she had taken her sorely, and knowingly, undeserved bow.

Ivy wasn't listening, concentrating instead on the production team, who were having a rather heated conversation of their own. What about was a mystery to Ivy. They all knew Charles would invest no matter what.

A few minutes later Linda announced that they were done for the day, a pleasant surprise. They were all tired and all too happy to avoid the wrath of Derek, at least for a few more hours. People began packing up quickly, agreeing to meet up for a bar crawl, where they could, and would, discuss the events of the day unsupervised.

When asked to attend, Ivy made up some vague excuse, saying that she might come later on. At present, she needed to make sure Derek wasn't going to have a nervous breakdown. Ivy was waiting for him by the elevator, when she heard her name being called.

"Miss Lynn." Ivy rolled her eyes, her foot tapping impatiently all the more eager to depart the building.

"What do you want Charles?" she replied. There was no reason for her to be cordial now that the cast was no longer present.

"The movie star. She's absolutely horrific." he said, almost giddy at this revelation. An odd reaction. Ivy knew his focus was on Derek but she'd have thought he would have preferred not to throw away his money on a dud of a production. Though she didn't pretend to know how one handled a financial surplus. It was not something she had much experience in.

"Yes. And?" she answered cooly. There was no point in denying the truth and Ivy wanted this conversation to be over with as soon as possible. She was in no mood to be a pawn in one of Charles' little mind games.

"I'm the main investor now." Charles added enigmatically, tapping his finger against a piece of paper that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be a contract. Ivy gave a curt nod but said nothing.

"I have a say in the cast." he finished, leaving her to fill in the blanks. It wasn't difficult to understand. He would put in a good word for her, maybe even demand her return to the lead, _if _she got him time with his son. For a moment, Ivy felt a wave of jealously rush through her. What she wouldn't give to elicit this type of reaction, this unmitigated desire to be a part of his child's life, from her own parents.

Of course, there were several flaws in his plan. First and foremost, she knew from Derek's rantings exactly how much it would cost to fire Rebecca. The number was high, too high for even Charles to put up. Rebecca would have to quit. It wasn't an impossibility, especially considering the star's fragile ego but that was a lot of _what ifs _to hinge her relationship on. Forcing his father on him would destroy them. And, though she hated to admit it, as screwed up and occasionally cruel as he was, Ivy liked Derek. A lot.

"No." she said, looking Charles straight in the eye.

"You'd spend your life wasting away in the chorus for my son?" Charles seemed wholly unaffected by her response, a far cry from the anger she'd been anticipating. In fact, he looked almost impressed.

When he put it that way, it scared the crap out of Ivy. She was being offered a ticket, tentative as it was, to a lead role in a major broadway production. A show that she had worked her ass off for. A show from which she had been unjustly fired. And yet, she was willing to give up that opportunity out of concern for Derek's wellbeing? Perhaps a part of her hesitation stemmed from her longstanding determination to make it on her own but she also knew a year ago she would have jumped at the chance. Now she wasn't so sure.

Ivy bit her lip, uncertain of how to answer. To answer in the affirmative would be a declaration, one she didn't think she was ready to make. Career had always come first for her. When her college sweetheart couldn't handle her work schedule, she'd broken up with him. When she had to choose between going to an audition or participating an myriad of weddings, christenings or parties, she'd always pick the former. When Derek had first kissed her, she'd let him, partly because his was attractive, but also in no small part because he was her director. She was a workaholic through and through, it was one of the many things she had in common with Derek. In all honesty, they had been borne out of convenience more than anything. Two people of a relatively similar age who worked in the same field, both reasonably good-looking and available. So when had it gotten so serious?

She realized, with a start, that she had essentially been living with him for the past month. That he knew her mother, disliked her mother, and she his father. And all of sudden, she was feeling more on edge than she had since she'd stopped taking prednisone. Charles continued to look at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Fortunately she was saved by the sound of the studio doors opening, and then promptly tossed overboard again when a rather annoyed Derek appeared.

"Speak of the devil." Charles intoned calmly, fixing his cufflinks to avoid making eye contact. It occurred to Ivy that she had never seen them alone face to face. Derek gave Ivy a questioning look, he obviously didn't appreciate her discussing him with his father.

"Don't worry Derek. Ivy was merely reasserting her dislike for me." Charles added, smiling at her. Instinctively, she recoiled, her back hitting Derek's chest. She moved to pull away but then his hand come down on her shoulder and she found herself relaxing a bit, despite the fact that he had played a large role in her initial panic.

"Well then she has admirable taste in company." Derek retorted harshly, reaching forward and jabbing his finger at the down button.

"Indeed, she does." Charles replied, looking back and forth between Ivy and Derek.

"Reminds me of your mother." he added, almost wistfully. It wasn't entirely clear whether he had intended to speak aloud but in the end it hardly mattered, Derek had heard and that's what counted. Ivy felt him tense, his fingers curling into a fist. And before she could stop it, there was a loud cracking sound and the next thing she knew she was pulling Derek away from his father, whose nose was bleeding slightly.

By then the elevator had arrived and Derek was ushering her in, leaving Charles still doubled over on the floor holding his hand to his face.

Neither of them spoke at first, both unwilling to deal with the complications the day had brought. And then suddenly he turned toward her.

"Tom's got a new song that'll probably end up being thrown your way." he said, as casually as if he had commented on the weather.

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"We want to do a song with Marilyn in therapy looking back on her past and we need a young Marilyn." he clarified. A solo. He was giving her a solo. For a moment, all her reservations about him and their relationship disappeared. She threw her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips, grinning widely. She didn't care that he had used her to intimidate Rebecca or made her to go between for him and his father, or that, even now, he was blatantly attempting to distract her from his general idiocy. At least that's what she told herself. Because as long as she cared more about the song than whatever it was they were, she was safe.

She tried to ignore the fact that, despite his father, Rebecca and their semi-disastrous show, watching her in her childish excitement, his mouth had curved into its own little smile as he leaned down to kiss her again.

**A million thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Please continue to do so even though I am an absolutely awful writer for taking this long to update. If anyone has any questions or comments feel free to PM me as well and I'll do my best to answer.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

The room was a mess. Bits and pieces of model sets lay scattered about the room, posters waiting for approval were piled under a stack of Marilyn books, drafts of old scripts tucked into their pages. Strewn across the floor were her rehearsal clothes, which had been discarded shortly after they'd gotten back to his apartment. It wasn't their usual routine but he'd needed the distraction and she had still been riding high off the news of her solo.

Once upon a time she'd had Derek pegged as a neat freak. When she'd first seen his apartment it had been spotless, everything in its proper place. Modern, spacious, organized; everything you expected from a high-powered professional. It was completely unrecognizable now; lying in various states of disarray. With previews starting in less than a month, there was no time for cleaning up. Whatever energy they had left at the end of the day was best directed at more creative pursuits.

Ivy found she liked it better now. It gave a certain personality to the otherwise impersonal decor. A physical manifestation of a lot of hard work. She'd always liked the idea that theatre left its mark on you. Suffering artists and all that jazz. It was the home of a director now. A director and his chorus girl. Maybe. Sort of.

They hadn't really discussed it. She wasn't sure she wanted to. If they did, they wouldn't be able to pretend this was casual anymore. Best leave the words to the writers. Their job was to interpret and they both knew what was happening. No need to add a unecessary dose of reality into what was working perfectly fine on its own.

Bombshell made it easier. Blur the lines between personal and professional enough and it was easy to mistake one for the other.

He could lie on the couch with her head across his chest, one hand absent-mindedly drawing patterns up and down her arm, so long as the other was holding a Marilyn biography. She could lean up and kiss him every so often because he'd just given her a song.

You could justify anything to yourself. It was when third parties got involved that things got complicated.

The knocking was quiet at first, easy to ignore. But then it got louder and Derek's shoulders were tensing and his eyebrows were furrowing. The book landed on the table with unusual force as he moved to stand up.

"I'll get it." she told him, her hand pushing lightly on his chest and forcing him to sit back down. At this hour, it could only be a personal call. And considering Derek's social life consisted entirely of her and his father at the moment, it was probably safest that she answered the door. Quickly pulling her house coat over her nightgown, she cracked the door open just enough to stick her head out. Fully expecting to see Charles, bruised and begging for mercy, she was surprised to see the face of a decidedly irritated Eileen Rand staring back at her.

"Eileen!" she cried, her voice an octave higher than normal. She had not been prepared for this.

"Yes." Eileen replied curtly.

"May we come in?" _We? _Ivy craned her neck out a little further. Behind Eileen, leaning against the elevator doors was Julia, her red hair tucked under a scarf, her eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that it was almost nine o'clock. To her right was Tom, who, if his current expression was any indication, was not at all pleased to see Ivy answering Derek's door.

"Yes, of course." she said as she let them in, wishing she was wearing something slightly less revealing. Ushering the production team into the living room, she exchanged glances with Derek as he surreptitiously handed her the clothes he had picked up in her absence; a visual which did her no favors with Tom. She gratefully accepted, venturing into the nearest washroom to change. Leaning against the sink, she let out a whispered "Fuck" as she bit her lip, staring at her reflection. Her hair was tousled and her makeup was smeared in a way that made it obvious exactly how she and Derek and spent their evening. Trying to repair the damage, she realized the counter was littered with her things. A hairbrush, a razor, a tube of mascara. If Tom came in here...

Tossing everything into one of the drawers, she was reaching for a bottle of perfume when the door opened a little.

"Ivy." Tom's voice was brusque, but not angry.

"Are you almost done? Eileen wants you to be there for this." That in itself was ominous. Ivy was in the chorus. Nothing happening on a production level should be affecting her. This had to be major. Forgetting herself, she threw open the door, revealing the contents of the bathroom. She felt Tom's eyes scan the area and immediately closed it again.

"Yeah. Give me a second." Pulling off her nightgown and hanging it on the back of the door, she quickly changed. Taking a deep breath, she went back out. There would be hell to pay next time Tom got her alone, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, she needed to know exactly what was going on with Bombshell.

She could feel Tom glaring as they walked back into the living room but she did her best to ignore him. She sat down on the arm of the couch, next to Julia.

"So, what's going on?" she asked brightly, trying to make light of the whole situation. But a quick glance from Eileen silenced her.

"Charles came to me this afternoon with a bloody nose and a story about his son punching him in the rehearsal hall." the producer said, very plainly.

"That wouldn't happen to be true, would it Derek?" she asked, her eyes narrowing although her mouth was still curved into a rather forced smile.

Derek chose not to respond, instead reclining in his chair and resting his arms behind his head as he rolled his eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Eileen replied, smoothing out her skirt calmly whilst still somehow managing to look utterly menacing.

"What if it is?" he replied, his voice gruff and deep; the only thing stopping him from sounding like a petulant child. To the untrained eye, he would seem unphased but Ivy knew better. He was treading on thin ice and he knew it. Eileen sighed heavily.

"May I ask why?" she asked.

"He provoked me." was Derek's response.

"Ask Ivy. She was there." he added, crossing his arms and tipping his head toward her. Ivy felt all eyes turn on her.

"He did." she confirmed tersely, glaring at Derek all the while. He had a nasty habit of putting her in the middle where his father was concerned.

"Oh for goodness sakes! Would someone just tell us what happened?" This was Julia, clearly eager to leave. Ivy wasn't surprised. She suspected Julia was mostly there to put up a united front. She was like this more often than not now; unfocused, out of sorts. It was peculiar. With Michael gone, Ivy had thought she'd be back to normal. Instead, she'd been worse than ever. But the who, whats and whys of the lyricist's discontent were beyond Ivy's concern right now.

Derek's bare foot was tapping restlessly, his eyes set on the floor, refusing to meet her gaze. Ivy closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a breath.

"We were waiting for the elevator. Charles was insulting me so Derek punched him." The words came out mechanically, carefully planned and moderated. Practice made perfect and this was the second time she was covering his ass today.

Her eyes met those of Eileen, Julia and Tom in sequence, almost challenging them to find fault in her story. It was mostly the truth; she had been the cause of the fight in her own roundabout way. All she was doing now was absolving Derek of responsibility. Making it look like an isolated incident rather than a symptom of an underlying issue. It wasn't much but it might buy them some time. At the very least, it made him seem slightly less unstable.

Derek looked up immediately, surprise written across his face. And then he was getting up and making his way towards her, his hand resting on the small of her back. She shot him a look, making it clear that this was far from over. Yet his hand remained and she let it.

Eileen looked at them as though she were about to comment but instead abruptly stood, grabbing her bag and readying herself to go.

"Well then, as long as it doesn't happen again." she said. Julia followed suit without question, gathering what she had brought with her and leaving before any of them could so much as make a move.

"Ivy, could you please see me out?" Eileen asked.

"Of course." she replied, somewhat apprehensive. Padding across the floor, she quickly caught up to the producer. Neither spoke until they were almost out of the apartment, well out of Derek's ear and eye sight.

"I know this puts you in an awkward position and I apologize for that, but I need you to get him to talk to Charles. I don't care how. Just make it happen. Please." She looked tired, exhausted even. Ivy was about to protest but Eileen silenced her, putting one hand up just as Ivy opened her mouth.

"I made a deal. Derek talks to his father. Charles continues to invest in the show." she explained.

"I can't..." Ivy started.

"You can. If he listens to anyone about this, it'll be you." Eileen returned, her voice leaving no room for arguments.

"Leigh Conroy's daughter." Ivy added quietly. For a moment, Eileen looked confused. She nodded distractedly.

"Among other things." she said.

"It'll be good for him. He's been running away from this for far too long." Perhaps Eileen was right. She'd known Derek for longer than any of them. But as Ivy looked at the older women's face, she thought it was more likely that Eileen was doing exactly what she was accusing Derek of. Hiding. Confusing one thing for another and convincing herself that she was doing this for the right reasons. Maybe she was. Did the show's wellbeing trump all their needs, all their human fragilities? Suddenly the cost of art seemed unfathomably high, even to her. Messy apartments were one thing. Estranged parents were another.

"Maybe it'll be good for you too." Eileen finished, raising her eyebrows in a way that reminded Ivy that she was still her boss. That she held Ivy's career in her hands. That she held Marilyn in her hands.

And with that Eileen pulled open the door and departed.

Finally alone, Ivy collapsed against the wall, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed with a Marilyn movie and a cup of tea. But the world was cruel and she could already hear the raised voices of Tom and Derek wafting in from the other room. Groaning, Ivy stood up, bracing herself for what was sure to be a painful conversation.

Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm not even going to bother with an excuse. I'm just a terrible writer to keep you waiting this long. **

**P.S. I don't own that All About Eve quote. :)**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

As she drew closer and closer to the living room, she could make out bits of dialogue; it was the usual mostly: snide comments and barbed insults followed by the sound of scoffing, peppered with a healthy dose of pontificating from both parties. Neither seemed to have addressed the elephant in the room. Apparently they were saving that particular conversation for her arrival.

"_Lucky me." _she thought grimly, rubbing her temples in an attempt to assuage the headache that had already begun to set in.

By the time she entered both men had stopped talking, simultaneously turning to meet her.

"Hello darling!" Derek said, pasting on a sarcastic smile as he made a show of greeting her, all but sticking his tongue out at Tom. Ivy rolled her eyes. His immaturity was astounding. Deciding it would be easier to deal with the situation head on she grabbed Tom by his sleeve and pulled him into the corner of the room.

"Look Tom, I know that you don't like it but Derek and I are together. I spend time here. You have to accept that." Tom shook his head softly and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't know him like I do Ivy." he told her, peering down at her. His eyes were opened wide, filled with genuine concern, looking like her father whenever he'd had to explain why Leigh couldn't make it to yet another one of Ivy's shows.

"Oh, bloody hell! She's not a child Tom." Derek called out from across the room, flopping down on the couch and picking up his script.

"No. But you are." Tom shot back. He turned back to Ivy.

"I just want to protect you." he added.

"From what?" she asked, now slightly irritated. If he was going to interfere in her love life, he needed to give her a reason to question what had, up until now, been a relatively successful, if somewhat tumultuous relationship. Vague aspersions on Derek's character weren't enough. Not now, not anymore.

"Yes, he can be a jerk sometimes but that's hardly new for me." Derek, still eavesdropping, made a noise that suggested something akin to offense at this, but a quick look from both Ivy and Tom had him shrugging his shoulders in agreement as he returned to his reading. Ivy continued, lowering her voice.

"What's so terrible about him Tom? You keep saying he's an awful person, but you've never explained to me why. Honestly, if there's something I don't know about, tell me." She was met with silence as Tom's eyebrows furrowed.

"See, that's what I..." But before she could finish her sentence, Tom was guiding her back to where Derek was sitting. He deposited her on the chair directly opposite the director, taking a seat on Derek's right. Ivy looked at him, confusion written across her face.

"I thought it was only fair that you hear it from both sides." he said, as if that was supposed to make things clearer.

"I'm sure you already know this but there was a time when Derek and I were friends, close friends actually." Tom began. Ivy stared at him, completely flabbergasted.

It wasn't that the information itself was new. She had a reasonably good idea of what he was talking about. She'd heard about it from Lyle and Charles and done some of her own research, she knew enough to piece together what had happened but she'd never tried to breach the subject with either of the involved individuals, nor had she expected them to bring it up with her.

Tom glanced at the other man, as if expecting Derek to finish the story, like it was one of those bad add-a-word improv games rather than his reputation the director would be putting on the line.

"I'll go last if that's alright with you." Derek told him derisively. Tom nodded distractedly, before starting in on his story.

"It was the last time we worked together before Bombshell. We were young, mid-twenties maybe." Tom began.

Despite herself, Ivy leaned forward. As bad as this could be for her and Derek, she couldn't deny that hearing about his past was intriguing.

"It wasn't working. I mean, it was terrible. This was before Julia and I started really writing together and I hadn't found my footing yet. Derek had just moved from London and didn't have a feel for New York audiences." Derek looked as if he were about to argue but then thought better of it, choosing instead to focus on Ivy. For a moment, she stopped listening to Tom, distracted by Derek's face. He seemed apprehensive, scared even. It wasn't a common emotion for him. Ivy had seen it only once before: on the night he'd told her about his father's visit. But he quickly noticed her staring and adjusted his expression accordingly. She averted her eyes, concentrating on Tom, an easy feat as he got more and more worked up.

"And then Charles, well, let's just say he pulled some strings and Derek ended up being 'the shining light in an otherwise dull show'." Tom continued.

"Essentially what he's saying is he's mad that I got good reviews and he didn't." Derek chimed in sardonically. Tom chose to ignore him.

"I could have dealt with that. I obviously wasn't expecting a huge hit right off the bat. But then Derek decided that it wasn't enough to be the savior of a bad show, he had to have a scapegoat. He went around and trashed me to everyone in town; blamed me for everything that went wrong in our production..." Tom opened his mouth to add something else but Derek cut him off.

"That is not what happened." But it sounded false even as he said it, more of an effort to stop Tom from speaking further than an actual refute of what had already been said.

Tom looked at her solemnly, Derek nervously. Ivy sat in silence, weighing what she'd just heard against what she knew about each man. Tom did have an aptitude for exaggeration and often misremembered things that hadn't gone his way. But then again, so did Derek. Ivy sighed. There was only one way to settle this. She turned to Derek.

"Your turn." Shock registered on his face. And then he was stuttering slightly, his tongue tripping over his words as he scrambled to cobble together a reasonable fabrication. Finally, he stopped, took a deep breath and said

"It's true. Most of it." Ivy had thought as much though she hadn't expected him to admit it to her, let alone Tom.

"Why?" she questioned calmly. His eyes flickered towards Tom.

"Do we have to talk about this now?" he asked, exasperation cloaking trepidation.

"He has as much of a right to know as I do." Derek nodded, his hand running through his hair, making it stand on end.

"There were rumors. My father was appearing _in public_ with the Times critic who had praised my direction. And with people coming to see the show it was harder to pretend that... and well, Tom was there, indignant about what he thought was unwarranted success. Of course he conveniently forgot to mention that while I was 'trashing' him, he was doing the same thing to me..." he trailed off, fiddling with the stack of paper in front of him.

"What are you talking about? I did no such thing! Even if I had wanted to, I didn't have that kind of influence back then." Tom protested, his face flushed with anger.

"I didn't mean the critics. You turned the whole company against me." Tom scoffed, standing up and walking away as if the very thought offended him. But Ivy noticed an instantaneous change in his demeanor.

"You did that to yourself." he said, tossing his hair slightly. Tom was prone to excessive moralizing when he knew he was in the wrong. Ivy looked at him quizzically. Derek had told the truth, it was only fair that he did the same. Seeing her face, he relented.

"Fine. I may have sped the process along but they were headed there either way." he told Derek.

"You were insufferable. You worked everyone to the bone and took all the credit." he added, his voice growing louder and louder.

"I had something to prove." Derek interjected.

"We all did Derek!" Tom was shouting now, his hands thrown up over his head.

"It's not the same. You don't understand" Derek said vehemently. And though Ivy knew she should be on Tom's side, in that moment, she took Derek's. Because what Tom couldn't grasp, what he would never fully comprehend, she had lived. She knew what it was to live in someone else's shadow, to never be certain that you'd earned anything. The only way to surmount it was to be better than your predecessor, and comparative success came with a timeline.

The room went still, only the sound of Tom's steps breaking the silence. He sat down again, facing Derek. He spoke, quiet but authoritative.

"You cannot push everyone away every time Charles comes into town."

"I don't. Not anymore." Derek replied, his words not defensive or forced, only blandly factual. Words that were unmistakably directed at Ivy. He knew. She knew. Tom knew.

And suddenly no amount of Marilyn Monroe could blur the lines. Not Marilyn, not Bombshell, not even theatre itself. This was serious. Terrifyingly, confusingly, beautifully serious. Somewhere between Ivy's complete stupefaction and Tom's bewilderment, Derek realized the magnitude of what he'd just said and frantically tried to backpedal but it was no use. There were some things you couldn't take back.

Tom, realizing he was caught in the middle of something he would rather not deal with, excused himself and departed without another word. Ivy wasn't bothered. There would be consequences eventually, but eventually seems very far off when your boyfriend just said something that might be better than/scarier than I love you.

She sat in silence for several minutes, thinking. About Charles and Eileen, Tom and Derek. About dreams and what you were willing to give up to achieve them. About parents and children and reconciliation. And she came to the realization there was no way of telling whether what she was about to do was the right thing; for her, for Derek, for anyone. And there was no way of knowing whether she was doing it for the right reasons, or which reasons were the right ones to begin with. There was only action and inaction, and she knew which one she needed to choose.

And so she walked over to him, set herself down beside him and took his hand in hers, indecision still playing heavily in her mind. In the end her voice came out in a whisper, soft enough that she could almost pretend she hadn't said it at all.

"I think you need to talk to your father."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So Smash is done. It was a flawed show but I'm going to miss it. Ah well, c'est la vie. We'll just have to help it live on by writing about it, right? Thanks to all those who follow, favorite or review. You guys are the best. **


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